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NEW AND VALUABLE WORKS. 
MENTAL PHILOSOPHY; 




I^•CLUDING THE JnTELLECT, THE SENSIBILITIES, AND THE WiLL. BY JOSEPH 

Haven, Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philosophy, Amherst 
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1. The Completeness with which it presents the whole subject. Some text-books treat of only 
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American edition. 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY: 



INCLUDING 



THEORETICAL AND PRACTICAL ETHICS. 



B Y 



y 



JOSEPH HAVEN, D.D. 

PROFESSOR IN CHICAGO THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY ; LATELY PROFESSOR OF 
INTELLECTtTAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY IN AMHERST COLLEGE; 
AUTHOR OF "MENTAL PHILOSOPHY." 



BOSTON: 

aOULD AND LINCOLN, 

59 WASHINGTON STREET. 
NEW YORK: SHELDON AND COMPANY. 
CINCINNATI: GEORGE S. BLANCHARD. 

1 859. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
GOULD AND LINCOLN, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 



EtECTROTYPED AND PRINTED 
BY W. F. DRAPER, ANDOVEK, MASS. 



The present volume is the result of the author's 
studies while Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy 
in Amherst College, and was originally prepared as a 
course of lectures to the senior class in that Institution. 
It was intended as a sequel to the author's treatise on 
Mental Philosophy. The favorable reception of that 
work by the public has induced him to give this also to 
the press, with the hope that it may be of service to the 
cause of Education. 

Few departments of science have so rich a literature 
as Moral Philosophy. And yet, by general concession, 
there are few good text-books of the science. Of the 
treatises now most generally in use in our schools and 
colleges, some appear deficient in thorough scientific 
discussion of the principles and true theory of morals ; 
others, again, in practical detail. In some of them, 
under the title of Moral Philosophy, topics are discussed 
which more properly pertain to Psychology, — as, for 
example, the phenomenon of Conscience, and the prob- 
lems of the Will, — while the liistory of ethical opinion 



VIII 



PREFACE. 



— one of the widest and richest fields of investigation 

— has almost universally been overlooked. 

It has been the aim of the author to give, as far as 
possible, a science of morals, and not merely a treatise 
on moral subjects. With a view to this, the principles 
which lie at the foundation of the science are first dis- 
cussed, as concisely as may be, in the opening division 
of the work; and in the subsequent division these 
principles are considered in their application to the 
practical duties and relations of life. 

Of the several classes of duties, that class which per- 
tains to the state — or Political Ethics — has received 
in these pages a fuller discussion than is usually given 
in works of this kind ; yet not fuller, perhaps, than its 
relative importance demands. It has seemed to the 
author that the youth of a free country should be care- 
fully instructed in the first principles of ci^dl govern- 
ment, and in the rights and obligations of the citizen. 
It is the proper province of Moral Philosophy, which 
treats of the various duties of life, to do this. Yet, 
strange as it may seem, no branch of moral science 
has probably received less attention, in this country, 
than Political Ethics. J. H. 

Chicago, August 1859 



c o isr T E isr T s . 



INTRODUCTION. 

Page 

NATURE AND PROVINCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY, . . 15 

DIVISION FIRST. 

THEORETICAL ETHICS. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE NATURE OF RIGHT, . 21 

Section I. — Right in itself considered, .... 21 
Section IL — Right as distinguished from other ideas 

OF similar import, 23 

CHAPTER II. 
THE GROUND OF RIGHT, 27 

CHAPTER III. 

THE RULE OF RIGHT, 50 



X 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER lY. 

Page 

THE PROVINCE OF RIGHT, 59 

Section L — What is a Moral Action ? .... 59 
Section II. — In what consists the Morality of any given 

Act ? 63 

CHAPTER V. 
FACULTIES OF MIND COGNIZANT OF RIGHT, ... 67 

CHAPTER VI. 

HISTORIC SKETCH OF OPINIONS RESPECTING THE NATURE 

AND GROUND OF RIGHT, 71 

DIVISION SECOND. 

PRACTICAL ETHICS. 
PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS AND CLASSIFICATION, . . 89 

PART I.^^^^ 

DUTIES TO SELF^^^ 

CHAPTER I. 
SELF-SUPPORT, .92 

CHAPTER II. 

SELF-DEFENCE, 95 



CONTENTS. 



XI 



CHAPTER III. 

Page 

SELF-CONTROL, 100 

CHAPTER lY. 

SELF-CULTURE, . . 104 

PART II. 

DUTIES TO SOCIETY. 

CHAPTER I. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE, 107 

CHAPTER II. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY, 116 

Section I. — Slavery Defined, 118 

Section II. — Slavery, as thus defined, a Moral Wrong, 121 
Section III. — Effect of Slavery on the National Morals, 

AND THE National ^Yealth, . . . 12G 
Section IV. — Argu3ients in Favor of Slavery, . . 130 

CHAPTER III. 

DUTIES PERTAIJSING TO PROPERTY, 142 

Section I. — Foundation of the Right of Property, . 142 

Section IL — Advantages of the Institution of Property, 148 

Section III. — Modes in which Property may be Acquired, 1')4 

Section IV. — Different kinds of Property, . . . 1-57 

Section V. — Crimes against Property, .... 160 



XII 



CONTEI^TS. 



CHAPTER lY. 

Page 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION, .... 167 

Section I. — Slander Defined, 169 

Section II. — TThat the Law of Reputation Forbids, . 170 
Section III. — Reasons for observing the Law op 

Reputation, 174 

CHAPTER V. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY, 176 

Section L — Truthfulness in Common Discourse, . . 177 
Section II. — Veracity as regards Projiises, ... 184 
Section III. — Veracity in respect to Oaths, ... 190 

PART III. 

DUTIES TO THE FAMILY. 

CHAPTER I. 
DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION, .... 198 

CHAPTER II. 

DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION, .... 206 

Section I. — Duties of Parents, 206 

Section II. — Duties of Children, 214 



CONTENTS. 



XIU 



PART IV. 

DUTIES TO THE STATE. 

CHAPTER I. 

Page 

NATURE AND FOUNDATION OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT, 221 

Section I. — Origin and Object of Civil Government, 223 

Section XL — Foundation op Civil Government, . . 228 
Section III. — Historic Sketch — Different Opinions as 

to the Nature op Civil Government, . 239 

CHAPTER II. 

VARIOUS FORMS OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT, ... 243 

Section L — Analysis op the several Functions and 

Forms of Government, 244 

Section IL — Historical Sketch of Forms of Government, 249 

CHAPTER III. 

DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT TO THE STATE, . . . 271 

CHAPTER IV. 
DUTIES OF THE STATE TO ITS SUBJECTS, ... 283 

CHAPTER V. 

DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE, 308 

Section I. — General Relations and Duties of States to 

each other, 308 

Section II, — Ethical Relations of Republican States to 

EACH OTHER, 322 

2 



XIV 



CONTENTS. 



PART y. 

DUTIES TO GOD. 

CHAPTER I. 

Page 



OF THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD, 326 

CHAPTER II. 

OF OBEDIENCE, 332 

CHAPTER III. 

OF WORSHIP 337 

Section L — Of Prayer, '^^S 

Section 11. — Or the Sabbath, 346 

I. — Tresumption in favor op a Sabbati^ 
II. — Institution and Authority of the Sabbath. 

CONFLICT OF DUTIES, 359 

AUTHORITIES, 363 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



INTRODUCTIOI^. 

l^ATURE AXD PROTIXCE OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

JSIoral Philosophy^ ichat. — Moral Philosophy is the sci- 
ence ^'hich treats of morals — the science of right. Nat- 
ural Philosophy teaches us the la^'s of external nature; 
Intellectual Philosophy, the laws of the human mind; 
Moral Pliilosophy has to do with the laws of human con- 
duct and duty. As thus defined, it is equivalent to Ethics. 
It may be termed, also, the science of duties, inasmuch as 
right and duty are, as regards moral action, one and the 
same. 

Term used in a wider sense. — By the earlier English 
writers the term JSIorcd Philosophy was used in a much 
more extended sense, to denote in general the science of 
mind, in distinction from physical science — whatever 
treats of intellectual in distinction from material things. 
As thus employed, it includes psychology as well as other 
sciences ; and this use is still, to some extent, prevalent. 



16 



NATURE AND PROVINCE 



Thus many of the works of English and Scotch philoso- 
phers on psychology are termed Moral Philosophy. By 
French writers, also, the morale is frequently placed in 
contrast with the physique. 

Indeed, the dividing line between mental and moral sci- 
ence has not, as yet, been very closely drawn, for the most 
part, by those who have written upon either. Many of 
our own most popular works on Moral Philosophy treat of 
topics which properly pertain to psychology, as, e. g., the 
nature of Conscience, the Sensibilities, the Will, and other 
topics of like nature. These are faculties of the mind, 
and, as such, it pertains to jDsychology to explain and un- 
fold them. Moral Philosophy, so far as it has occasion to 
make use of these phenomena, must go to psychology for 
the facts and the explanations, just as it must go to 
astronomy for the facts and laws of planetary motion ; or 
to logic for the laws of thought and forms of reasoning. 
Its proper office is to teach, not logic, nor astronomy, nor 
psychology, but the science of right — of duty. It has to 
do neither with the affections, the emotions, nor the will, 
except so far as these are involved in the investigation and 
statement of duty. 

Intimate connection of Mental with Moral Philosophy. 
— The connection between the two sciences is indeed very 
intimate ; and for this reason they should be all the more 
carefully distinguished. The very idea of right is to be 
sought among the primitive conceptions of the mind. To 
perceive and judge of the right, is one of the most impor- 
tant offices of the reflective power of the mind. The 



OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



17 



emotions, affections, desires, furnish a powerful class of 
motives to human action, whether right or wrong. The 
will, or the power of voluntary mental action, constitutes 
the basis of human accountability, and lies, therefore, at the 
foundation of ethics. Hence, not improperly, the faculties 
now designated have been termed, by some philosophers, 
the active and moral powers of man. Dugald Stewart 
thus designates them. 

In regard to the faculties now under consideration, a 
correct psychology is absolutely essential to a con-ect sci- 
ence of moral duty. 

In another resjDect, also, is the connection of the two 
sciences intimate. Duty pertains, first and chieliy, not to 
the external conduct, but to the responsible, intelligent 
mind, whose thoughts, feeling, and volitions find their 
expression in that outward conduct, and determine its 
moral character. To teach me what are my duties, is to 
teach me what thoughts and affections I ought to cherish ; 
what j^urposes and volitions I ought to form and put 
forth; in a word, what ought to be my entire mental 
activity, as exerted in the various relations of life. Men- 
tal science contents itself with ascertaining what are the 
varied phenomena of mental action ; moral science, while 
relating chiefly to the same department of observation, — 
i. e., the human mind, — inquires not so much what are the 
laws and operations of its various faculties, as what they 
ought to be. 

General dimsions. — The science of morals properly 
divides itself into two parts — the theoretical and the 

2* 



18 



MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 



practical. Before proceeding to discuss the various du- 
ties which pertain to the well-ordered conduct of life, it is 
necessary to inquire first into those general principles on 
which, as a basis, morality rests, — as, e. g.^ the nature of 
right, the ground of right, the rule of right, the province 
of right, — and in what consists the moral quality of actions. 
This inquiry into, and discussion of, the general principles 
which lie at the foundation of morals, may be termed the 
theoretical part of the science. The way will thus be pre- 
pared to take up and discuss, in their order, the several 
duties that devolve on man in the various relations of life ; 
and this may be termed the practical part of the science. 



DIVISION FIRST. 
THEORETICAL ETHICS. 



THEORETICAL ETHICS. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE IfATURE OF RIGHT. 
§ 1. — Right in Itself Considered. 

Essential Attributes, — The term right expresses a 
simple and ultimate idea ; it is, therefore, incapable of an- 
alysis and definition ; nor does it, like many other ideas, 
stand in need of definition in order to be understood. It 
exj)resses an eternal and immutable distinction, inherent in 
the nature of things, not the creation of arbitrary power, 
whether of man or God. Wherever there is voluntary 
action of any intelligent rational being, there is always, 
and always must be, a right and a wrong ; and all moral 
action is, of necessity, either the one or the other. The 
distinction is one universally recognized. The idea of right 
lies among the simplest fLirniture and first principles of tlie 
human mind. It manifests itself with the dawn of reason 
and intelligence. It is not an idea of the schools, a distinc- 
tion known only or chiefly to metaphysicians ; but is the 
property alike of the learned and the simple, of the child 
and the philosopher. Opinions may vary widely as to 



22 



THE NATURE OF EIGHT. 



what is, and wliat is not, right action ; what one system 
or one age pronounces to be right, another system or 
another age may decide to be wrong ; but, as to the essen- 
tial difference between the right and the wrong, as ideas, or 
principles of action, no age or system was ever at a loss — 
no mind, however feeble, was ever confused. 

This Idea^ lohence derived. — It is a question of some 
importance how we come by the idea of right. Some have 
attributed it to fashion and education, as did Locke and 
his followers ; others to the laws, human or divine, which 
forbid or sanction certain actions ; others regard it as the 
product of a special sense, whose office it is to take cogni- 
zance of moral distinctions, as the eye perceives color, and 
the ear sound. Others again regard the idea of right as 
a simple and ultimate one, and as such underived, a pri- 
mary original conception of the human mind, not innate, 
but connate, an elementary dictum of reason. 

The universality of the idea, — its early manifestation 
in childhood, prior to education, and the influence of ex- 
ample, — as well as the clearness and strength with w^hich 
it manifests itself, in all conditions of society, and under all 
the varying circumstances of life, — these things go to show 
that the idea of right is founded in the constitution of the 
mind, and not derived from any source external and ad- 
ventitious. IsTor can those who take the opposite view 
give any satisfactory account of the origin of this idea; 
since, to attribute it to education, leaves the question still 
open, where did the first man, the first educator, derive his 
idea of it ; while to ascribe it to law, human or divine, is 
still wider of the mark, inasmuch as law always pre- 
supposes the right, as the foundation on which it rests. To 
attribute, then, the origin or the idea of right to law, is to 
place the foundation upon the building, instead of the 
building upon the foundation. And as to the theory of a 



THE XATURE OF RIGHT. 



23 



special sense, whose office it is to take cognizance of the 
right, it is sufficient to say, tliat there is no evidence of any 
such special foculty of the mind, nor is any such needed. 

For the further investigation of this topic, the reader is 
referred to the author's treatise on Mental Philosophy, in 
which the question, and its several theories, are more fully 
discussed. 

§ 2. — Eight, as DiSTiNonsHED from other Ideas of similar 

IMPORT. 

Hight and Duty. — Right and duty are not precisely 
synonymous terms, yet are nearly equivalent. T\"e are 
always under obligation to do that which is right — it is 
our duty. The right in morals once ascertained, the doing 
of it is, under all circumstances, a duty. Right is the 
foundation of obligation, and coextensive with it. It is the 
Tightness of the thing that creates its binding force, and 
makes it obligatory upon us. There can be no moral obli- 
gation to do what is not in itself a right thing to be clone. 

Still, right and duty, though coextensive, are not of 
precisely the same import. Right is the abstract, in itself 
considered. Duty is right, considered in relation to us as 
personal agents — as doers ; obligation is the binding power 
of the right over us, which makes this or that a duty. 

Another Vieic. — Some writers make a further distinction 
between obhgation and duty than that which I have now 
indicated — making obligation more comprehensive than 
duty. Thus a man may be obliged, by force of circum- 
stances, or by the laws of the land, to do what is not right. 
Such is the view taken by Whewell, in his Elements of 
Morality. That which is here called obligation, however, 
is not really such, but rather compulsion, or necessity. Xo 
combination of circumstances, and no power of law, can 



24 



THE NATURE OF RIGHT. 



create moral obligation. In morals, that, and that only, 
conveys obligation which bears the high seal and impress 
of right. "Whatever goes beyond this, or violates this, — ■ 
whatever power and pressure of circumstances it may draw 
around it, whatever sanction and authority of law, — can 
never bind the conscience, or impose on the spmtual nature 
of man the restraints of a moral obligation. Law may come 
in, with its sanctions and penalties, to secure the perform- 
ance of the right ; it may cast the heavy sword of power 
into the scale that hangs in doubtful balance ; or it may 
require and enforce the wrong ; but in neither case can it 
create a moral obligation which did not previously exist. 
Had there been no law, it would still have been my duty 
to do the right. It is still my duty, even though the law 
forbid. Obligation and duty are coextensive. 

Right and Rights. — The term right varies in signi- 
ficance, according to its use, as an adjective, or as a 
noun ; or, more properly, according to its use in the singu- 
lar, or in the plural. Right is the principle that should 
regulate my conduct towards others ; my rights are what I 
may justly expect and require from others, in their inter- 
com'se with me — what they ought to do as respects me. 
That which is my right, is another's duty ; and that which 
is my duty, is another's right. Every right, then, has its 
corresponding duty. It is my duty, for example, to obey 
God ; and that obedience he has a right to require. It is 
my duty to obey the state in all its just and proper require- 
ments — in all things not inconsistent with higher obHga- 
tions ; and this obedience the state has the right to demand 
of me. In like manner, all my rights look to the corre- 
sponding duties of others ; and all my duties, to the rights 
of others. 

There would be no rights^ were there not in the first 



THE STATURE OF RIGHT. 



25 



place such a thing as right. From tliis, obligation results, 
duty results, and so rights exist. 

Yieio of Whewell and others. — If, with Whewell and 
others, we make rights to depend for their existence on 
the laws, it follows that there are no rights except those 
which society recognizes and creates through the medium 
of law; and were there, for any reason, no longer any law, 
no man would any longer have any rights ; — which is by no 
means the case. Law may define and prescribe my rights ; 
it may enforce them, see that they are respected and ob- 
served; but it does not, and cannot, create them. They 
are founded in the principles of natural justice, and of imi- 
versal and immutable right. Were there no laws — were 
the institutions of society swept away — there would still be 
rio-hts, so lons^ as there were intelliojent and rational beinofs 
in existence sustaining certain relations, to each other. 
Suppose, for example, two persons cast ashore upon a des- 
ert island, where, beside themselves, is no human being — 
where, of course, is no state and no law. Each of these 
persons has still, by the law of nature, certain rights, inal- 
ienable from him ; as, e. the right to his own person, his 
own labor, his own property ; and were the other to wrest 
these from him, he would be guilty of a manifest wrong — 
of palpable injustice. 

Those who take this view, moreover, go upon the suppo- 
sition that the laws are based upon right and justice — 
as unquestionably they should be, but unfortimately are 
not always. There may be, in the course of human af- 
fairs, iniquitous, unjust laws ; such things have been, and 
will be again. Such laws, according to the view in ques- 
tion, however, create rights and impose duties. In such a 
case I have, according to this theory, the right to demand 
of others what it is not right for me to demand of them; 

3 



26 



THE NATURE OF RIGHT. 



while, on the other hand, it is my duty to do what it is not 
right for me to do. 

If it be replied, that in this case the rights supposed are 
merely legal rights, and not moral ones, I answer, that, ac- 
cording to the theory, all rights are legal ones, and must 
be first legal before they can be moral. It is the law that 
creates rights, moral or other. The morality presupposes 
and depends upon the legality, as the quality j^resupposes 
the substance. To distinguish in this manner between a 
right which is merely legal, and one which, in addition to 
that, is also moral, is to step back from the theory that it is 
law which creates rights. 

The truth is, neither right nor rights are dependent on 
law for their existence. There are rights which are not 
defined by law — which, possibly, are forbidden by law. 
All rights exist before they are thus defined. Both my 
duties and my rights depend for their existence on right ; 
and this again depends, not on society, nor law, but is 
founded in the eternal and immutable nature of things. 

The rights, so called, which are established by law, may 
or may not coincide with moral rights. However this may 
be. Moral Philosophy has to do, not at all with legal rights, 
as such, but only with moral. With jurisprudence, as dis- 
tinct from morals, it has no more to do than with constitu- 
tional law, or the science of government. 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



27 



CHAPTER II. 

GROUND OF RIGHT. 

Principle of Ohligation. — Duty implies obligation. To 
say that it is my duty to do a given thing, is to say that I 
ought to do it. Were there no such thing as obligation, 
there would be no such thing as duty. It is evident then, 
at a glance, that the principle of obligation is an essential 
element in morals : it meets us at the threshold, it lies at 
the foundation of the science on which we are entering. 

Such is the constitution of the human mind, that no 
sooner do we perceive a given course to be right, than we 
recognize also a certain obligation resting on us to pursue 
that coui'se. It is a conviction of the mind inseparable 
from the perception of the right. Given the one, and we 
cannot escape the other. 

G-round of 3Ioral Ohligation. — The question arises here, 

Wliat is the ground of this ought f — what constitutes it ? 
What is that, in any given action, that imposes on me the 
obligation to do the same ? I ought to do this and that : 

Why ought ? 

Whatever answer we may give to this question, we must 
come back ultimately to the simple position — we ought, he- 
cause it is right. The rightness constitutes the obligation. 
The question, then, virtually resolves itself into this — 
What constitutes rigjht? 

This is a question of no little moment. It has received, 
at different times, and by- different authors, widely differ- 



28 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



ent answers, and these various answers constitute so many 
clilFerent theories of morals. They lead us over an inter- 
esting and most important field of inquiry, involving one 
of the dee2:)est problems in the whole range of 23hilosophi- 
cal thought. 

In the preceding chapter, I had occasion to refer to the 
source of our idea of right, and also to the question, What 
constitutes our rights? The question now before us is 
quite distinct from each of these. We are now to inquire, 
not whence comes the idea of right, but what is right 
itself f — not what makes rights^ but what makes right f 

Principal Theories. — The principal theories of morals, or 
grounds of obligation, proposed by different writers, may 
be reduced, perhaps, to these four: 1. Utility; 2. Law; 
3. The nature and character of God ; 4. The eternal and 
immutable nature of things. Each of these has been 
regarded as the true ground on which to j^lace the dis- 
tinction of right and wrong, and the consequent moral 
obligation. The two former of these, again, have each a 
twofold aspect : Utility, as the ground of right, may de- 
note eitlier tlie happiness^ the pleasure accruing from a 
given course (which is itself a species of utility), or the 
more direct adoantage resulting from it. Or, if we place 
the matter on the ground of legal enactment, the law 
which makes the right and the wrong, may be man^s law, 
or it may be God's. 

We have, then, these divergent paths opening before us, 
each proposing to conduct to the true solution of our prob- 
lem, each trodden by many a mighty man in the domain 
of thought : the xitilitarian theory, with its twofold aspect, 
the pleasure and the advantage of the thing; the legal 
theory, twofold also, as of human or Divine authority ; the 
theory which makes the Divine character the foundation 



GROUND or RIGHT. 



29 



of right ; and, finally, that which bases it on the immuta- 
ble and eternal nature of things. 

Let ns, then, examine these several theories in their 
order : 

I. The Utilitarian. — Utility as denoting Pleasure. Un- 
derstanding by this term, in the first place, pleasure., rather 
than advantage, the doctrine is this : — the reason why we 
pronounce one thing right, rather than another, is, that we 
find the one act to be attended, uniformly, with pleasm-e to 
the doer; the other, with pain. One contributes to his 
happiness, the other detracts from it. ISTow, the pursuit 
of happiness, it is contended, is the grand motive and 
spring of all human action ; and if it be once established 
that the actions which we call right are such, invariably, 
as to promote our happiness, no other reason need be 
assigned why we thus regard them. And this, it is con- 
tended, is the case. If we select any instance of what we 
call right action, we find it to be an action which is accom- 
panied with i^leasurable emotion. And this is the ground 
of our approval, the reason why we pronounce the action 
right. 

Now, it is not to be denied, that to do right bi'ings with 
it a present satisfaction and true happiness. Such is the 
constitution of our nature. The question is, whether this 
tendency to produce happiness is what makes a given act 
right. Is the thing right because it produces happiness? 
or does it promote our happiness because it is right? 
Which is the true statement? When I pronounce some 
past act of my life to be right, and approve it as virtuous, 
is it because I remember that it gave me great pleasure ? — 
and when I cherish the feeling of self-reproach and re- 
morse, in view of past conduct, is it on the ground that 
the given action was accompanied with unpleasant and 
painful sensations ? 

3* 



30 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



The Theory not satisfactory. — The simple statement of 
the question would seem suiScient. We feel instinctively 
that our decision and approval rest on far other and higher 
grounds. Virtue and haj^piness are by no means identi- 
cal. We have different terms for them, and mean different 
things by them. The one cannot be resolved into the 
other. If it be true that all right things are pleasant, it 
does not follow that all pleasant things are right, much 
less that their j)leasantness makes them right. Many are 
the j)ropensities of a corrupt nature, the indulgence of 
which is attended with present gratification, which still are 
evil and only evil; and in their pleasantness consists the 
A^ery strength of the temptation they present. The man 
who yields to the force of such temptations, however, by 
no means approves the course that he pursues. He goes 
to the commission of the wrong, not v/ith a conviction 
that he is doing right, but under a protest from his con- 
science, and with a feeling of self-reproach and self-con- 
demnation. This ought not to be, according to the theory 
now under consideration. He ought rather to approve 
his conduct, on the ground that he was seeking therein 
his own happiness ; and his self-approval ought to rise and 
increase in proportion to the pleasure he receives. 

As denoting Happiness of the Community. — l^or is 
the case materially altered by substituting the happiness 
of others, in place of personal happiness, as the ground of 
right. No doubt right action contributes to the happiness 
of the community, and swells the sum total of the world's 
enjoyment ; but is it this that constitutes the rightness of 
the act? Is the noble consciousness of doing right, with 
all its power to sustain the spirit of a man under the pres- 
sure of the heaviest calamities and the gloom of the dark- 
est hour, merely this — the conviction that somehow, in 
consequence of what he has done, men will, on the whole, 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



31 



enjoy themselves belter? Independent, and irrespective 
of all such considerations, is there not a far nobler satisfac- 
tion in having done that which was right, in itself consid- 
ered, and for its own sake ? 

The view now considered was the distinctive tenet of 
the ancient Epicurean philosophy; and has been held, in 
later times, by Hume and Shaftesbury in England, and by 
their followers generally. 

As denoting Advantage, — Considering, now, utility as 
denoting advantage or expediency^ we come upon some- 
what different ground, — capable, however, of attack and 
defence by essentially the same arguments. In fact, the 
* former view may be regarded as a modification of the latter; 
the one specific, the other generic, in its form; — pleasure 
being itself a species of advantage, at least in the opinion 
of those who make it the rule of right. Hence, very gen- 
erally, the advocates of the former view are advocates also 
of the latter. Still the latter is, of the two, the broader 
and hisfher OTOund. 

Self-love, according to this view, is the grand motive of 
human action. Men do what they think for their advan- 
tage. IsTow, it is found by experience that a certain course 
of conduct is for the advantage, and the opposite for the 
disadvantage, of the doer. Hence they come to regard 
the one course as right, and to be pursued, — the other 
as wrong, and to be avoided. In a word, it is the utility 
or expediency of the thing that constitutes the ground and 
reason of its rightness. Such is the doctrine of Bentham 
and his followers. 

And here it is admitted on all sides that virtuous action 
does contribute to the advantage, in many ways, of the 
doer. The question is, whether this is what makes it vir- 
tuous — whether this constitutes its rightness. Is it right 
because expedient, or expedient because right ? 



32 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



Consequences of this Theory. — Let us see what follows 
from this theory. (1) If expediency is the ground of right, 
then interest and duty are identical in idea — synonynies for 
the same thought. To prove a given action right, all that 
is necessary is to show that it is advantageous to the doer. 
The same act performed from the same motives, with the 
same spirit and intentions, is right to one man, and wrong 
to another ; nay, is right to one and the same man, at one 
time, and wrong at another, according as it turns out for 
his advantage or not. We can never be sure that we are 
acting virtuously, until we know how the action is to affect 
our personal interests. Men have acted from the highest 
and purest j)i"iiiciples, yet have been in reality far from vir- 
tuous, because what they did proved not for their own 
interests. They ought, therefore, to cherish feelings of 
self-reproach and remorse in view of their conduct. 

(2) It follows from this theory that there is no such thing 
as i?itentionaI wrong-doing. Men always act, it is said, from 
the principle of self-love. They do what they think is for 
their own advantage. Finding by experience that certain 
actions tend to their advantage, they come to regard such 
actions as right, and the opposite, for the same reason, as 
wrong. "What have we here for a syllogism ? 

Man acts always with reference to his own good. To act 
with reference to one's own good, is to act right; there- 
fore, man invariably acts right ! He may mistake, and do 
what is in the end disadvantageous ; but it was a mistake, 
an error of judgment, and not an intentional wrong. This 
is on the whole a very favorable view of things, and may 
serve to relieve somewhat the sombre aspect in which the 
world and poor erring human nature present themselves 
to a certain class of minds. Men are not so bad, after all. 
They do as well as they know how. They mean to be 
selfish, and to consult their own interests; and if they 



GPvOU2^D OF RIGHT. 



33 



sometimes come short of duty in this respect, it is an error 
of the head and not of the heart. 

(3) It follows, also, that there is no such thing as disin- 
terested virtue. Utility is the ground of rectitude, the 
foundation of obligation. We ought, therefore, to give a 
man credit for his conduct, just in proportion as we per- 
ceive him to have been governed throughout by a regard 
to his own personal advantage. To act thus is to act right, 
and to comply with the claims of duty. There can be no 
virtue which springs not from this source. The more fully 
a man promotes his own interests, and seeks his own per- 
sonal advantage, in all he does, provided only there be no 
direct violation of the rights of others, the higher esteem 
ought we to cherish for that man in our hearts. On the 
other hand, where an action is of such a nature that w^e 
are not quite sure whether the man loas really seeking his 
own advantage, or that of others^ in what he did, we ought 
to w^ithhold our a2:>probation. 

But, strange to say, selfish as the world is, it does not so 
decide. It does sensibly diminish our moral approbation 
of any act, to see, or suspect even, that self-interest was the 
leading motive of conduct; it heightens our admiration 
and esteem, to perceive that the act w^as performed 
without the least regard to that, but from entirely different 
motives. 

Contradicts Co7isciousness. — And this leads us to re- 
mark, in general, that the theory under consideration con- 
tradicts the facts of consciousness. If utility were the 
ground of moral obligation, the foundation of right, then, 
whenever we recognize such obligation, we should be 
conscious of this element as the basis of it — should be 
conscious of perceiving the tendency of the given act to 
promote the personal happiness or the personal advantage 
of the doer, and that our conviction of obligation in the 



34 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



case arose from that circumstance ; whereas, in fact, we 
are conscious of no such thing, but in many cases of 
directly the reverse. The sense of obligation exists, not 
only irrespective of the idea of happiness or of advantage 
to be derived from the given act, but often in opposition to 
it ; the desire of ha]3piness, or of personal advantage, draw- 
ing us in one direction, the sense of obligation in another. 
It is not true that duty and interest are identical. We 
have different names for them, we mean different things by 
them. We are conscious of acting, now from one, now 
from the other, of these principles. It is not true that men 
never intentionally do what they know to be wrong. This 
was the capital defect in the ethical system of Socrates, and 
also of Plato, who make virtue a matter of science, and sin 
to be merely ignorance. Whose consciousness does not 
testify the opposite of this? Who will not say, with 
Ovid, 

"Video meliora, proboque, cleteriora sequor; " 

or, with Euripides, " I know that what I am about to do is 
evil, but desire is stronger than my deliberations." Surely 
the poets, in this case, are more nearly right than the phi- 
losophers. Who has not reason to say, with Paul, " That 
which I do, I allow not." 

ISTeither is it true that we act always from personal and 
selfish considerations. We are conscious of the opposite — 
conscious of doing that which is right, because it is right, 
and not for 'the sake of personal advantage. ISTor in such 
cases is the verdict of conscience against us ; but, on the 
contrary, it is precisely such actions that draw forth the 
testimony of her warmest approbation ; so far from re- 
proaching us for not acting with more direct and uniform 
reference to our own advantage, conscience more fre- 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



35 



queiitly condemns us for having acted from no higher 
principle. 

We cannot but regard the facts of consciousness, then, 
as altogether at variance with the theory under consid- 
eration. 

Utility as denoting Good of the greatest number . — Sup- 
pose, now, we give the term utility a still wider extension, 
meaning by it, not the advantage of the individual merely, 
but the good of the greatest number — does it become in 
this sense the foundation of rio-ht and of moral oblio-a- 
tion ? There are still insuperable objections. 

In the first place, how can it always be known what icill 
promote the interests of the greatest number ? The ten- 
dencies and results of actions are often hidden from human 
perspicacity. TVe do not know how they will affect the 
interests of any considerable number of persons. A labo- 
rious calculation of consequences would in most cases be 
necessary, in order to such a conclusion ; and even then we 
could never arrive at certainty — never be sure that our 
reasonings and conclusions were correct. We should be in 
suspense, therefore, as to the morality of actions, unable to 
decide whether they are right or wrong, until we could first 
know their ultimate bearing on the general welfare. Such 
a calculation of consequences is quite beyond the capacity 
of the mass ; only the more enliglitened and far-seeing are 
competent to form such judgments, and even they not with 
any certainty. Only the few, therefore, are competent to 
form ideas of right or wrong, and apply them to human 
conduct, while the vast multitude are left without any such 
faculty to guide them. 

At variance with Facts. — Furthermore, it may be justly 
objected to this theory, in the form in which it is now 
stated, that it is directly at variance with the facts in the 
case. As a matter of fact, we do not always calculate the 



36 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



consequences of an action before we pronounce it, in our 
minds, right or wrong. We are conscious of no such pro- 
cedure. We do not stop to know what bearing it is likely 
to have on the public welfare. We do not raise the ques- 
tion at all. We neither know nor care. Instinctively we 
decide as to the j^ropriety and Tightness of the given act ; 
we approve and condemn without reference to consequen- 
ces, and on other grounds than that of expediency. 

It is fatal to this theory of utility, in whatever form it is 
stated, whether as referring to the happiness of the individ- 
ual, or the happiness of the community — to the advantage 
of the individual, or the advantage of all, that, so far from 
being conscious ordinarily of any such considerations, in 
our estimate of the morality of actions, we are conscious 
of quite the opposite. Our moral decisions are often pro- 
nounced under circumstances which preclude t\iQ possibility 
of all such prudential considerations. Narrate to a child, 
just old enough to understand you, some story of flagrant 
injustice and wrong — the flush of indignation, the glow of 
resentment are visible at once on that cheek ; the decision 
of that moral nature, its verdict of disapproval and con- 
demnation, is to be read at once in that eye, that brow, 
that clenched hand — the whole mien and aspect of the min- 
iature man. Has it been calculating the expediency and 
utility of the thing — the consequences to society of what 
its outraged nature condemns ? 

Utility presupposes Obligation. — But there is a further 
objection to making utility, in any of its significations, the 
ground of moral obligation. It is that all these principles, 
as thus applied, virtually pres%ippose the existence of 
moral obligation, and therefore cannot be the ground of it. 
I perceive such a course to be conducive to happiness; 
therefore, says the advocate of this view, I am under obli- 
gation to pursue that course. But why therefore f Why 



GROUXD OF RIGHT. 



37 



ought? Sup2^ose I choose to do that which is not^ on the 
whole, for my happiness, — what then '? T\^hose business 
is it but my own ? Either there is no manner of obliga- 
tion in that case, or else it lies out of and back of the 
principle now supposed. The same may be said of utility 
in the sense of advantage. It presupposes an obligation 
to do what is seen to be useful and advantageous; and 
the question still remains, "What is the ground of that 
obligation which the doctrine of utility presupposes '? 

II. Theory of Legal Enactment. — Let us look, now, at 
the theory which places the foundation of moral obligation 
on the ground of jyositii'e enactment. Laws have been 
made, human and divine, requiring, forbidding, etc. Hence 
our approval and condemnation of actions, and our convic- 
tion of obhgation. The just and the unjust, the right and 
the wrong, in human conduct, are simply its conformity, or 
want of conformity, to law. 

Of those who take this ground, some look no higher 
than to human enactment as the ground of rectitude and 
the foundation of moral ■ obligation. The laws of man 
make the right and wrong of things, and are the sufficient 
and ultimate standard of morals. There is no higher law. ^ 
Xo other reason need be given Avhy I should do, or not 
do, a given thing, than that the laws of my country 
require it. 

Such, among the ancients, was the doctrine of the Soph- 
ists. Plato, in the "De Legibus," and Aristotle, in his 
"Ethics," make mention of the doctrine as maintained by 
some in their day. 

Among the moderns, Gassendi and Hobbes are almost 
the only writers of distinction who have had the boldness 
to avow, and the consistency to maintain, a doctrine at 
once so shameless, so obnoxious to the common sense and 
common honesty of mankind, and so destructive of the 

4 



38 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



first principles of morality. Occasionally, indeed, the 
spectacle is presented of some one, more patriotic than 
discreet, who, in his zeal to defend the constitution and 
laws of his country, so far forgets himself, in the pressure 
of the exigency, as to take the general position that the 
laws of the land are to us the final court of appeal, and 
tliat we are to look no higher for authority. Even such 
persons, it is to be j^resumed, are not fully aware of the true 
nature and legitimate consequences of this doctrine, nor 
of the company they keep in maintaining such a position. 

They would shrink, it is to be hoped, from the doctrine, 
reduced to its simple elements, and affirmed, as a principle 
in ethics, that might makes rights — a sentiment that even 
a German rationalist has pronounced infernal^ — and from 
the atheism that discards the Deity, and overlooks the 
moral nature of man, while proclaiming human law as the 
standard of morals and the foundation of right. 

Objection to this View. — If it were of any use to reason 
against a doctrine so little deserving the name of philoso- 
phy, or the notice of a calm re23ly, it were sufficient, per- 
haps, to ask how it is possible, on this principle, since law 
is itself the source and foundation of right, to compare 
one law or code with another, — those of Draco, e. g.^ with 
those of Solon or Lycurgus; the edicts of Nero with 
those of Constantine ; and because one system is mild and 
humane, another barbarous and inhuman, pronounce one 
to be more right and just than the other? If law is its 
own authority ; if it makes right ; if back of it there is no 
appeal, no ultimate standard of rectitude, — then, of course, 
everything which is once enacted, and obtains the sanction 
of established law, is right and binding, no matter what it 
may be, — one equally so with another, — and it is absurd 
to make a distinction between them. The commands of 
the veriest despot are as just and right, as obligatory on 



GKOUND OF RIGHT. 



39 



the conscience, as those of the wisest and mildest ruler. 
Law is law, and that ends the matter. A law morally 
wrong is an impossibility, an absurdity. Inasmuch as 
laws vary, moreover, in different lands, what is right in one 
country is wrong when you cross a river or a mountain; 
what is a virtue in Holland is a sin in Belgium. 

Divine Laio as the ground of Right > — Much more rea- 
sonable and philosophical is the view of those who regard 
the divine will and law as the foundation of moral recti- 
tude. This view was maintained by Occam, among the 
scholastics — by Paley, and many others, among the mod- 
erns. Yet even to this view insuperable obstacles arise. 

Objections to this View. — 1. If this view be correct, 
then we have only to suppose the will of Deity to change, 
and what is now wrong becomes instantly right, — the 
good and the bad, the virtuous and the vicious, change 
characters at once. We have only to suppose him other 
than he is, and to have commanded other than he has, to 
have reversed the decalogue; and the things now com- 
manded would then have been wrong, and the things now 
forbidden would have been right. Murder, adultery, false 
witness, theft, covetousness, would have been virtues, com- 
mendable and obligatory ; while to honor our parents, 
and to love our neighbor as ourselves, would have been 
morally wrong. In other words, there is no difference, in 
respect of moral character, between these actions in them- 
selves considered; the difference lies wholly in the fact 
that one is commanded, and the other forbidden ; they are 
right or wrong only as they are, or are not, the will of 
Deity. 

It is no answer to this to say that God is holy, and 
therefore will not command that which is evil ; nor, that 
he is immutable, and therefore will not change. The ques- 
tion is not as to the inatter of fact^ but as to what would 



40 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



be true, in case he and his law were not what they are. If 
it were j^ossible for God to throw around sin the sanction 
of his' law, would it, because of that sanction, cease to be 
sin, and become holiness ? Does the Tightness of an act 
consist wholly and simply in its being lawful ? 

2. It follows, also, that, had there been no divine law to 
establish the character of actions, human conduct had been 
neither virtuous nor vicious, neither good nor bad; but 
all actions would have been alike indifferent. To hate our 
neighbor, to take his property, his good name, or his life, 
would have been not only allowable, but equally as com- 
mendable and meritorious as the opposite. Nothing would 
have been unjust, nothing wrong. 

3. There is no propriety or sense in speaking of God's 
law as just and good; in affirming that his statutes are 
right, his commandments holy, etc.; for moral approba- 
tion is wholly misplaced and uncalled for. It is without 
meaning. For, if there is no standard of right, and no 
ground of obligation but the law itself, how can its re- 
quirements be any other than right and binding, whatever 
they may be? To say that his statutes are just and right, 
is to say, simply, that his statutes are his statutes. More 
than this : when we speak of the law as holy, just, etc., do 
we not attribute a moral character to the law itself? But 
how can this be? If the law creates moral distinctions, 
how can law itself possess a moral character ? — how can 
it be either right or wrong? This is to suppose right cre- 
ated, and yet to have existed before it was created. 

4. Further, for the same reason, we are shut out, on this 
principle, from attributing to Deity himself any moral 
character. Law is the foundation of right, and law is from 
God. Back of his will there is no law, and, of course, no 
ground of rectitude. God has himself, therefore, aside 
from his own law, no moral character, no virtue ; for, be- 



GROUXD OF RIGHT. 



41 



yonci his own will and pleasure, there is no lan' imposing 
obligation, and constituting for him the right and the 
wrong. One thing is as right as another for him ; every- 
thing is equally right ; and, strictly speaking, nothing is, 
for hhn, either right or wrong. It is language without 
meaning when we say, with one of old, "Holy, holy, lioly 
Lord God, just and true are thy ways." Before he en- 
acted the first law, there was no such thing as right. It 
depended entirely on his pleasure whether to enact that 
law. There was no obligation to enact it ; for no law, as 
yet, existed to create obligation. Suppose he had not 
done it? — right would not have existed, and, of course, in 
that case, could not have pertained to the divine charac- 
ter. Kot until he creates the right by making law, can 
he by any possibility possess a moral character; and even 
then, it is a moral character which he himself creates, and 
imposes upon himself by arbitrary enactment. Had he 
made a law precisely the reverse of the actual one, it 
would have been equally right and binding, and himself 
equally as holy. But it is difficult to see how the thing 
made can put the maker himself under obligation ; how 
from his o^ti work he can derive the foundation of a char- 
acter which he had not in himself prior to the work. It is 
difficult to estimate the intrinsic excellence of that holi- 
ness which owes its origin to a purely arbitrary enactment ; 
which might just as well never have been made, or have 
been entirely other than, and the reverse of, what it is ; — a 
holiness which, when strictly viewed, amounts merely to 
this, — that the being who possesses it does ichat he does. 

Lava as the JBasis of Obligation. — It may be supposed, 
perhaps, by some, that the divine law, while it may not ab- 
solutely create the distinction of right and wrong, does 
nevertheless create the obligation on our part to do, or not 
to do, the things required ; that it is to me the sufficient 

4* 



42 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



reason why I ought to do thus and thus. This is a view 
entitled to a careful consideration. I must do thus, because 
such is the will of Deity. The question is now as to this 
word because. Granting that the will of Deity is as 
affirmed, what has that to do with my conduct ? — wherein 
and how does that place me under obligation to do what 
the Deity wills ? Where lies the binding power of the law 
itself? Manifestly not i?i itself, as law, but in something 
else. There must be something to make the law binding, 
or it can bring with it no obligation to obedience on my 
part. And in saying this, we really abanclon the position^ 
that law is itself the basis of obligation. 

This something we may find in one of three things. It 
maybe in the character of the law given, — a holy, just, and 
good law, and one which we ought therefore to obey. But 
this is to j^lace the ground of obligation, not in the law 
itself, but in something else, viz., moral rectitude. I am 
bound to obey, not because there is a law, but because 
there is a holy and just law. 

Or we may trace the binding power of the law to the 
relation which the Deity sustains to us. He is our creator, 
preserver, benefactor ; and as such, has the right, it is said, to 
control and govern us. But does this, we reply, give him 
the right to govern and control, irrespective of moral dis- 
tinctions f If it does, tlien right and wrong are the mere 
arbitrary creations of his will, — a view which we have 
already considered and rejected. If it does not, then the 
ultimate ground of obligation is to be found in the rectitude 
of the divine requirements. In either case, it is not the 
law itself that constitutes the obligation. 

Does, then, that which constitutes the binding force of 
the divine law consist in this : that the Deity is in himself 
such a being as he is, the greatest, the wisest, the best ; and 
therefore his will is obligatory on other beings ? This again 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



43 



is to recognize moral distinctions as lying back of the law 
itself, and as giving to that law its character and its force. 
When you say that God is good, just, holy, the best of 
beings, and, on that account, ought to be obeyed, you 
abandon the position, that law itself creates moral distinc- 
tions, and that it contains in itself the ground of obligation. 
His being and nature are prior to his law, and the founda- 
tion of it ; and if his being and nature are themselves good, 
then certainly it is not his law that makes them so ; and if 
it is from them that our obligation to obedience springs, 
then certainly not from the law itself. 

Whatever view we take, then, of this matter, we are 
compelled to give up the position that the divine law is 
the ground of moral obligation. An action is right, not 
hecaitse God wills it ; on the contrary, he wills it because it 
is right. 

View of Dr. Chalmers. — The distinction between the 
rightness and the lawfulness of an act, is admitted by some, 
who still place obligation on the ground of law. This is 
the case with Chalmers. In general, it may be remarked, 
that no writer breathes throughout a higher moral tone 
and purpose, or utters truth with more eloquence and 
earnestness than he. His style is an avalanche broken 
loose, a sea of expression, rolling, sentence after sentence, 
wave upon wave, with a loftiness and force quite irresisti- 
ble. It is the style of the orator, however, rather than of 
the philosopher ; indicating fervor and strength of feeling, 
rather than precision and clearness of thought. There is 
a certain nobleness of sentiment that wins our admiration. 
We feel sure that some leviathan is ploughing up those 
waters, and making them to boil ; but it is a leviathan not 
willing to be caught and classified for purposes of science. 
In the present case, Dr. Chalmers, if we understand him, 
derives obligation from the divine law, but right from the 



44 



GROUN^D OF RIGHT. 



divine character; tbus separating the two. While he rejects 
the view of Paley, that makes the diviiie command the 
foundation of right, he still makes that command the foun- 
dation of our obligation to do the right. jSTot until Deity 
interj^oses with his authority in its behalf, does the right 
become obligatory. 

Objection to this Yieio. — It is difficult to j^erceive the 
justness of this distinction. In the first place, it limits the 
term obligation to a strictly forensic use, a sense to which 
it is by no means restricted. A wider sense belongs to it. 
We are under obligation, ethically speaking, to do many 
things not specifically required by law. But, more than 
this, it seems to divorce obligation from right, as if right 
did not carry in itself a corresponding obligation, but was 
dependent on law to come in and give it authority; or as 
if, on the other hand, obligation might sometimes, or might 
at least be supposed to, ran counter to right. 

Higlit and Obligation^ hoio related. — We cannot think 
such a distinction either necessary or allowable. On the 
contrary, we regard right and obligation as coextensive, and 
on a common basis. The foundation and origin of the one, 
is also the source and foundation of the other. Given, 
tlie right, and there is given along with it the obligation to 
do the right. We cannot conceive them separate; the former 
without the latter ; a right thing which we are under no 
obligation to do, or a wrong thing which we are under no 
obligation to avoid. This obhgation is universal, absolute, 
complete. Law cannot add to it, or make it more perfect 
than it already is. Law may indicate and enforce, but can- 
not create moral obligation. Show me that a thing is right, 
and you show me a reason, and the best of all reasons, why 
I ought to do it. The moment I perceive the rightness, I 
perceive also the obligation. If the one is founded in law. 



GROUND or RIGHT. 



45 



SO is the other ; if the divine character is the foundation of 
the one, it is the ground of the other also. 

Matters of cm Indifferent Nature. — It is admitted that, 
in respect to matters in themselves indifferent, as, for in- 
stance, the ceremonies of a ritual observance, law may 
impose an obligation not previously existing. But such is 
not the case now under consideration. We are concerned, 
in this discussion, only with such matters as come under 
the cognizance of the moral faculty, as being in themselves 
right or wrong ; and the question is. What constitutes the 
obligation to do, not a thing indifferent, but a thing whicli 
we perceive and know to be right ? Our answer is : The 
very rightness constitutes the obligation. The question re- 
turns then, On what does the rightness depend ? Not on 
utility, not on law. An action is right, not because expe- 
dient; but expedient, because right. It is right, not because 
God wills it ; on the contrary, he wills it because it is right. 
What, then, constitutes rightness ? 

III. The Divine Nature the Source of Might. — It may 
be said that right and wrong lie not in any of these things, 
— not in the pursuit of happiness or of personal advantage ; 
not in law, human or divine, — but in the nature and char- 
acter of God himself This, as we have already stated, is 
the view of Chalmers. It is the view, also, of many others. 
We have discussed so fully the previous theories, that there 
is no need of dwelling long upon this. The same objections 
that lie against the theory of divine law, as the source of 
obligation and the ground of right, apply with equal force 
to this view. God's law is but the expression of his will ; 
and his will is but the expression and, transcript of his char^ 
acter. It is his nature in action. To say that his law 
constitutes right, then, is virtually saying, in another form, 
that his nature and character are the ground of right ; and 



46 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



whatever objections lie against the one view, are, in reality, 
equally objections to the other. 

Objection to this View. — If right or wrong depend, ulti- 
mately, on the character of God, then we have only to 
sui^pose God to change, or to have been originally other 
than he is, and our duties and obligations change at once ; 
— that which was a virtue, becomes a crime ; that which is 
a crime, is transformed into a virtue. Had he been pre- 
cisely the reverse of what he is, he had still been, as now, 
the source of right, and his own character would have been 
as truly good, and just, and right, as it is now. This is, 
virtually, to rob him of all moral character. We may still 
say that he is holy, and that his ways are right ; but we 
mean by it only this, when we come to explain, — that he 
is what he is, and does what he does. The holiness of his 
acts consists, not at all in the essential character of the 
acts themselves, but only in the circumstance that they are 
Ms acts. 

It does not meet this objection to say that God is holy, — 
holy by a necessity of his nature, — and that he can never 
be otherwise : that is not the question ; but simply, whether 
his being what he is is the ground of all rectitude and of 
ail obligation ; whether that which he does is right because 
it conforms to his character^ or whether his character is 
holy because it conforms to the right. This is a very 
important distinction. 

We have this objection, then, to the view which re- 
solves virtue into the divine character, and makes right 
inherent originally in the divine nature: that while it 
seeks to honor God by making him the source of all excel- 
lence, it really takes aAvay from his character the highest 
excellence and glory that can pertain to it — that of 
conforming to the right. 

lY. The Eternal Nature of Things as the Ground of 



GEOUXD OF RIGHT. 



47 



liight. — We seem to be driven, then, to the only remain* 
ing conckision, that right and wrong are distinctions im- 
mutable and inherent in the nature of things. They are 
not the creations of expediency, nor of law ; nor yet do 
they originate in the di\*ine character. They have no 
origin ; they are eternal as the throne of Deity ; they are 
immutable as God himself. ISTay, were God himself to 
change, these distinctions would change not. Omnipo- 
tence has no j^ower oyer them, whether to create or to 
destroy. Law does not make them, but they make hiAy. 
They are the source and spring of all law and all obliga- 
tion. Reason points out these distinctions; the moral 
nature recognizes and approves them. God's law, and 
will, and nature, are in conformity to these distinctions; 
else that law were not just and right, nor that nature holy. 
Our moral nature is m conformity to these distinctions ; 
hence we apj^rove and disapj)rove, as we do, the various 
actions of men. The deeds are right, not because we 
approve tliem; on the contrary, we approve them because 
they are right. They are right, not because they are com- 
manded ; but they are commanded because they are right. 

E^en Deity subject to the Law of Bight. — There is a 
sense in which Deity himself is subject to this eternal and 
immutable law of right. There are things which it would 
not be right for even Deity to do. So fully does his moral 
nature approve the right and abhor the wrong, that the 
Scriptures declare it impossible for him to do evil. There 
is no purity like his; no approval of the right, no con- 
demnation and abhorrence of the wrong, so strong and 
intense as his, in the whole universe. This, his moral 
nature, is to him a law, the highest possible and conceiva- 
ble, placing him under obligation, not indeed to another, 
but to himself, to adhere ever to the eternal principles of 
right, and truth, and justice. 



48 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



This Vieto hoiiors God. — In their anxiety to honor and 
exalt the Divine Being, some have shrunk from the idea 
that there is any law or obligation resting on the Deity to 
do one thing rather than another, — that there is, or can be, 
anything which it would be wrong for him to do. But, 
which most honors and exalts God — to resolve the distinc- 
tion of right and wrong into the arbitrary decisions of his 
will, thus leaving him without moral character, or to 
regard that distinction as immutable and eternal, extend- 
ing even to the throne and will of him who layeth the 
beams of his chambers in the waters, and hangeth the 
earth upon nothing? Which most honors him — to make 
his nature and his will the foundation of right, or the 
eternal principles of right and justice the foundation of 
his character and his law ? Which gives the noblest and 
most exalted conception of the Divine Being ? Which of 
these two views imparts the loftier significance to that 
sublime anthem of the angels, that goes up unceasingly 
before his throne, and shall yet go up from the entire 
universe : " Holy, holt, holt Lord God Almighty, which 
Avas, and is, and is to come ? " and to that song of the 
redeemed that stand upon the sea of glass : '^Jicst and ti^ue 
are thy ways, thou king of saints. Who shall not fear 
thee, O Lord! and glorify thy name ? " 

Objection stated and answered. — It may be said, per- 
haps, that to make right and wi'ong inherent in the nature 
of things, is virtually to place their foundation and origin 
in God ; since the nature of things depends, after all, on 
him. L[e who made all things, is the author of their nature 
also. 

This objection derives its force from the somewhat 
indefinite expression, "nature of things^'' — a phrase used 
with great latitude of meaning. As used to denote material 
objects and their qualities, it is true that both things and 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



49 



the nature of things are the work of God; as used to 
denote finite intelligences, the same is true, — they are the 
work of the Divine Intelligence, they and their original 
nature. But when we speak of things and the nature 
of things, as applicable to this discussion, we do not, of 
course, refer to material objects, nor yet to spiritual intelli- 
gences, but to the actions and moral conduct of intelligent 
beings, created or uncreated, finite or infinite. We mean 
to say, that such and such acts, of an intelligent, voluntary 
agent, whoever he may be, are, in their very nature^ right 
or wrong. Now, God does not create the actions of intel- 
ligent, free agents ; and, of course, does not create the na- 
ture of those actions. To say that the moral character of 
an act is created by Deity, is simply to beg the question 
in dispute. 

The Theory asserts what. — When we say that right and 
wrong are inherent, then, in the very nature of things, we 
simply assert that certain courses of conduct are, in their 
very nature and essence, wrong — certain others, right; 
that they are so, quite independent and irresiDCctive of the 
consequences that result from them, or of the sanctions 
and authority with which they may be invested ; tliat they 
are so, not because of the laws, either human or divine, 
that give them force ; that they would be so, were there 
no law, or were it the ojDposite of what it is ; that even the 
actions of Deity himself fall within the range of this uni- 
versal principle ; and that it does not depend on his will, 
or even his nature, much less on his power as Creator, to 
establish or abolish this immutable distinction. 

We say it is in the very nature of things that the whole 
is greater than a part ; that a straight line is the shortest 
distance between two points ; that two straight lines can- 
not enclose a space. We cannot conceive the opposite to 
be true. It does not depend on the will of Deity whether 

5 



50 



GROUND OF RIGHT. 



these things shall be so or not. He does not create these 
relations. They are eternal and necessary truths. In like 
manner, there are certain truths pertaining to the conduct 
of all rational and intelligent beings, — certain moral dis- 
tinctions, which we regard as immutable and eternal, — 
inherent in the very nature of things. And on this firm, 
eternal basis rests the foundation of our moral obligation. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE RULE OF RIGHT. 

Question stated. — What makes a thing right is one 
question, and how do we Jmoio it to be right, is quite 
another. The former was discussed in the i^receding chap- 
ter ; the latter is now before us. What rule have we by 
which to judge of the moral quality of actions? — what 
standard? — what means of information? The decision 
of the former question is not necessarily the decision also 
of this. That which is the ground of right, and the basis 
of moral obligation, is not, of necessity, the source of our 
knowledge respecting the right, and the rule of our duty. 

The Ansioer. — It is a sufficient answer to the question 
before us, to say, in general, that the will of God must be 
regarded as the rule of right and the standard of duty to 
man. The divine will, while it is not the source and ground 
oi right — as already shown — is nevertheless the source 
of our Jcnoidedge of right, the rule of duty to us. It does 
not create right, but reveals it, makes it known. That will 
itself reposes upon the right, and is conformed to it. That 
will is our law. Such is the character of the Divine Being, 



THE RULE OF RIGHT. 



51 



and such, also, our relation to him, as Creator, Governor, 
Benefactor, as to make his will binding upon us, and that 
law, which is holy, just, and good, our rightful and only 
proper rule of action. 

That Will, how revealed — This rule is made known to 
us in various ways. It is given, first of all, in the moral 
nature of man himself, who is endowed with the faculty 
of distinguishing between right and wrong, and is so con- 
stituted that, by the law of his nature, he approves the 
right and disapproves the wrong, whenever perceived. 
It is given also in the constitution of nature, in the order- 
ing and arrangement of things about us; which constitu- 
tion and arrangement are such as to indicate clearly the 
will of the Deity as to the course which we should pursue. 

It is given yet more fully and clearly in that revelation 
which he has made of his will in the sacred Scriptures. 

I. I?i the Moral Nature of 3Ian. — Such is the constitu- 
tion of the mind as to fit it for taking cognizance of moral 
distinctions, and, what is more, for approving the right 
whenever perceived, and condemning the wrong. And 
this moral nature and constitution of the human mind is 
from God, and is in itself an indication of his will. It 
may not, of itself, point out with clearness and definite- 
ness, in all cases, what actions are right, and what are 
Vva^ong ; this may be, to some extent, a matter of opinion 
and judgment — a matter of belief rather than of positive 
knowledge ; yet, within certain limits, the moral nature of 
man decides without hesitation as to the character of 
given actions, and approves or condemns accordingly. It 
is seldom at a loss as to the great dividing lines which 
separate the kingdoms of right and wrong, of crime and 
duty. An instance of flagrant injustice or ingratitude, 
related in the hearing of a child, or of a savage, unbiassed 
by education and the restraints of civilization and society, 



52 



THE RULE OF RIGHT. 



calls forth at once his disapproval, and awakens his indig- 
nation at the wrong. It is the voice of nature, essentially 
the same in all climes and ages of the world, approving 
the right, condemning the wrong. It is the voice of God, 
speaking through the moral nature and constitution which 
he has bestowed upon his creatures. Thus it is, that they 
which have not the law, "are a law unto themselves." 

II. In the Constitution of Nature. — The will of the Cre- 
ator is further revealed in the constitution and nature of 
things about us. It is impossible for one of ordinary intel- 
ligence and habits of observation not to perceive a fixed 
connection between virtue and happiness, vice and misery, 
in the world. Certain courses of conduct are uniformly 
attended with certain results. It is the natural tendency 
of a certain manner of life to produce misery and evil 
consequences ; it is the tendency of an opposite course to 
produce opposite results. And from this alone might be 
inferred, with sufficient clearness and certainty, what is 
the will of the Creator, as to the course which his crea- 
tures shall pursue. These results are intended, not acci- 
dental ; and they are intended as an indication of the 
divine will. 

A Case supposed. — Let us suppose, for example, the 
question to arise in the mind of an intelligent heathen, 
iiaving no other than the light of nature to guide him, 
whether a life of sensual gratification — the indulgence, 
without restraint, of the merely animal appetites — were 
agreeable to the divine will. He finds such indulgence to 
be attended with momentary gratification, followed by 
subsequent misery; that it results in injury to the powers 
of body and of mind ; that its tendency is to suffering, 
poverty, vice, crime. He observes these facts. He per- 
ceives them to be the legitimate and inevitable results of 
tiie constitution of nature, a part of the system of things ; 



THE RULE OF RIGHT. 



63 



and if he acknowledges the system itself to have had an 
intelligent originator and designer, can he be at a loss as 
to the intention and will of that Creator in the case sup- 
posed ? 

It is in this way that we may learn from the constitution 
of nature what is the will of our Creator. All nature has 
its laws. Man, as a part of the great system of nature, is 
no exception to the rule. Both his physical and his spirit- 
ual being have their laws. These laws are to be learned, 
in either case, by observing the results and tendencies of 
different actions ; and the laws of our moral nature, thus 
ascertained, constitute what we may call a system of nat- 
ural religion. 

Whether this is really Lcm. — And here the question may 
arise, whether that which we call law in such cases — as in 
the expression, Icms of our moral nature — is really, after 
all, of the nature of law, properly so called ; or whether it 
is merely advice or admonition. Certain courses of con- 
duct, it is admitted, tend to produce misery and ruin, while 
other courses promote the haj)piness of all concerned. 
This is to be construed, however, it may be said, not as a 
law prohibiting and commanding, but as simply an indica- 
tion, or admonition, as to the course which it is wisest and 
best for us to pursue. The suffering which follows wrong- 
doing is not « punishment of the wrong, but simply a 
warnino' ao-ainst its future commission. 

I reply : it is of no consequence to the present argument 
whether it be the one or the other — whether punishment 
or merely warning — whether law, or merely advice. In 
either case, it is a sufficient indication of the will of the 
Creator respecting the course which his creatures should 
pursue. It shows j^lainly enough what his wishes and 
instructions are — what he meant by constituting us as 
he did. 

5* 



54 



THE RULE OF PwIGHT. 



JVot mere Advice. — As a matter of fact, however, the 
indications to which I refer are not merely advisory, but, 
in many cases at least, prohibitory; not mere warning, 
but punishment. The suffering comes after, and often 
long after, the wrong has been done, as in the case of those 
youthful follies which produce their results in subsequent 
years, when the evil is accomplished, and the constitution 
already hopelessly impaired. The consequences, in such 
a case, are not fully known until it is already too late to 
remedy the evil. Nay, the man may already have re- 
formed, and his life may be one of active and noble useful- 
ness ; yet, nevertheless, the punishment, long delayed and 
slow of approach, but sure as the established laws of the 
universe, shall by-and-by overtake him. The fires which 
youthful folly and vice have kindled are not always extin- 
guished by the tears of subsequent repentance, but burn 
on, slowly consuming, until the whole structure lies in 
ruins. There is a point, moreover, beyond which even 
reformation becomes hopeless, not to say impossible. All 
further warning and admonition, in such a case, are use- 
less; yet the suffering, which is the inevitable result of 
wrong-doing, is none the less inflicted. 

Now, in these cases, the misery which is consequent 
upon vice cannot be intended as warning or admonition, 
for it comes too late ; the evil is done. It. is not advice, 
but law; not warning, but penalty. If it be said the 
suffering is intended as a warning to others, I reply, so is 
all punishment ; but is none the less punishment on that 
account. 

III. In Revelation. — The will of God is further made 
known in that revelation which he has given us in the 
sacred Scriptures. The sources of information already 
considered are at the best imperfect and defective. There 
was need of another, a more direct, a more complete and 



THE EULE OF RIGHT. 



55 



explicit declaration of the divine will. In the ScriiDtures 
we have this needed revelation. They supply the defects 
of the previous sources of information — make known to 
man what he most needs to know respecting himself, 
his Maker, and the uncertain future, and bring to bear 
upon him motives to obedience and a right life, such as 
could be drawn from no other source. It cannot be 
denied that man's moral nature teaches him much ; much 
also the constitution of things around him ; and it may be 
fairly conceded that an honest, sincere inquirer after truth, 
having no other means of information than the light thus 
derived, but disposed to make the best use of the instruc- 
tion thus obtained, would not be likely to go far astray in 
his views of what constitutes a right course of life. 

Yet, in both the sources of information already consid- 
ered, there are, it must be confessed, serious deficiencies, 
such as render a further and better revelation of the divine 
will an absolute necessity of the race. 

Mcm's Moral Nature Defective. — As to the moral faculty, 
while it enables us to comprehend the right and the wrong- 
as made known to us, — while it causes us to perceive and 
feel our obligation to do the right and to avoid the wrong, 
— it does not of itself point out to us precisely what our 
duties and obligations are, — precisely what is, and wliat is 
not, the right thing — the thing to be done. This we are 
left to learn, for the most part, in other ways.. Conscience 
is not itself, strictly speaking, a revelation. Given, the 
right, or the supposed right, and conscience holds us to it, 
presses upon ns the obligation, aj)proves our obedience, 
chastises our disobedience with its scorpion lash. In re- 
gard to the question. What is duty ? — what, to-dny, and 
for me, under present circumstances, is the right thing 
to be done? — it has no special revelation to make, other 
than to form a judgment, the best it can, in view of all the 



56 



THE RULE OF RIGHT. 



circumstances of the case, aided by the light of reason and 
experience. 

Conscience, psychologically viewed, is in fact simply the 
judgment, or reflective faculty of the mind, exercised upon 
moral themes. As thus employed, it has no advantage of 
infallibility, or absolute correctness, more than as employed 
on other matters. Hence, as in all our judgments, so in 
these, we are liable to err, we do err ; we mistake the path 
of duty, not seldom, even where we seek to go right. 
Now, it is just here that additional light is needed — 
some clearer, more explicit revelation of duty and the 
will of God. Conscience is satisfied if only we do what 
we suppose to be right ; but how are we to know with any 
certainty what is right ? 

A Case supposed. — I can conceive, for example, an 
intelligent and right-minded heathen, convinced of his 
obligations to the Supreme Power, and disposed to yield 
that homage and worship which are due from the creature 
to the Creator, yet at a loss to know what worship would 
be acceptable to Deity. I can readily suppose him to be 
satisfied of the guilt incurred by a life of sin, and of the 
necessity of making some expiation for that guilt, but 
ignorant of the way in which the anger of a just God 
against the evil-doer may be appeased. I can conceive 
him interrogating conscience in vain to know what, in 
these circumstances, he is to do. Conscience has nothing 
to say, except to accuse him of violated obligation, and of 
ever-accumulating guilt. What shall he do? Shall he 
offer the most costly sacrifice ? — shall he cast his child into 
the Ganges, or himself into the flames ? The man needs 
some other instruction, some other light than nature, and 
reason, or his own moral sense, afford, in order to discover 
the path of life. 
By stem of Nature also Insufficient. As respects natural 



THE RULE OF RIGHT. 



5T 



religion, or the constitution and nature of things about us, 
that, too, must be confessed, in some respects, an insuffi- 
cient guide, of itself, to the right course of life; and such 
we find it has always proved in the history of the world. 
It has never fully met and answered the wants of the 
human mind. Much may be learned from it, but not all 
that man wdshes to know. It is invaluable and yet insufii- 
cient. It teaches only by experience / and that experience 
often comes too late, — comes when the evil is done, and 
there is no remedy, — as in the case of the youth who 
squanders in idleness and profligacy the best years of his 
life, and finds out too late the loss he has incurred. That 
experience, moreover, is drawn wholly from the present 
v'orld., the state of things in which w^e find ourselves here 
placed ; it knows nothing, teaches nothing, with respect to 
the future^ except by inference ; it gives no certain knowl- 
edge with regard to anything beyond the present life, or 
wdiether, indeed, there is anything beyond. I may infer^ 
from what I observe of the connection between virtue and 
happiness, sin and misery, in the present life, that if there 
be a future state of existence, the same law will hold there ; 
but I cannot Tcnoio this, much less that there is a future 
existence. ISTor can I learn, from anything in the consti- 
tution of nature, the true remedy ; or wdiether there is any 
remedy for the evils of sin, any escape from its guilt. 
These are matters which, most of all, I w-ish to know ; yet 
on these points nature is silent. 

Now, the force of sinful passion, and an evil nature in 
man, strengthened, as that nature and those passions are, 
by indulgence and habit, must ever prove too strong for 
the restraints of such a system as this. It will keep no 
nation, no age, efiectually in check. And such proves to be 
the case. Both the religious and the ethical systems of 
the pagan world — systems which flourished in the palmiest 



58 



THE RULE OF RIGHT. 



days of the most cultivated and refined nations of an- 
tiquity — show conclusively that natural religion is not 
enough. Neither in the one nor the other do we find 
clear and adequate conceptions of the Supreme Being, of 
the future state, of the way of pardon to the erring and 
the lost ; neither in the one nor the other do we find any 
restraining power, effective and suliicient to keep a people 
or an age from the grossest corruptions and sins. Under 
all these systems, ethical and religious, the tendency of 
the nations was from bad to worse. 

The Deficiency Remedied. — Something other and better 
was needed, — some more explicit revelation of the divine 
Avill and of human duty, some influence more poAverful to 
restrain men from known sin, was needed, and was given. 
In the sacred Scriptures we have that which we seek in 
vain among the philosophies and the mythologies of the 
world, — that knowledge which neither natural religion 
nor the unaided reason and moral sense of man can fur- 
nish. It is not the province of Moral Philosophy to unfold 
and state in their order the great truths made known in 
revelation, much less to present the arguments by which 
such a revelation is established. It is the business of The- 
ology to do this. It is sufficient to our present pui-pose to 
say, that the Bible reveals God and his attributes more 
perfectly than they could otherwise be known to man; 
that it fully and explicitly and positively makes known his 
will, that law which is to us the true rule of duty ; that it 
reveals in all its grandeur and power the doctrine of the 
future, — a life beyond the narrow confines of the present, 
in which men shall be rewarded or punished, according to 
the deeds done and the character formed in the present 
life ; above all, that it reveals to sinful man the way of 
escape from guilt and ruin, through Him who is the way, 
the truth, and the life. 



PROVIN^CE OF RIGHT. 



69 



CHAPTER lY. 

PROVINCE OF RIGHT. 

TiDO Questions. — In further discussing the science of 
right, two questions present themselves. 1. What is a 
moral action; or, in other words, what sort of actions are 
properly so called ? 2. In what consists the morality of 
any given act ? Where lies the virtue or the guilt of it ? 
These questions comprise a topic which has not been dis- 
cussed in the preceding chapters, viz., the province of right. 
We will take them in their order, as now stated. 

§ 1. — What is a Moral Action? 

JSFot all Action Moral. — What class of actions are prop- 
erly called moral f Not all human actions. Some actions 
have no moral quality. I start at the accidental falling of 
a window, or discharge of a musket. A person uncon- 
sciously talks in his sleep, or in delirium, or, it may be, rises 
and walks about, performs certain actions, takes the prop- 
erty, or perhaps the life of another, or puts an end to his 
own life. These are not properly moral actions. They are 
involuntary, as in the instances first mentioned, — or irra- 
tional, as in the cases last specified, — and in neither case 
do we attach praise or blame to the act. It has no moral 
quality. 

Morality pertains to lohat. — Morality, the quality of 
virtue or guilt, of praise or blame, pertains only to the ac- 
tions of intelligent and rational beings, and only to the 
voluntary actions of such beings. By action, I mean to in- 



60 



PROVINCE OF RIGHT. 



elude, of course, the various forms of mental activity, and 
not merely the putting forth of j^hysical power. It is not 
merely when I move my limbs, raise my hand, or bring 
into use some one of the bodily organs, that I act ; when I 
think, Avlien I cherish an emotion, affection, or desire; 
when I put forth a volition, even though the external act 
should for any reason not follow that volition — in all these 
cases I act. All these are so many forms of mental activ- 
ity ; and when we speak of moral action, it is to the activity 
of the mind, primarily and chiefly, that we refer. An ex- 
ternal bodily act is moral only so far as it involves and 
proceeds from some activity of the mind. Otherwise it 
has no more morality, no more desert of praise or blame, 
than the movement of an axe, or hammer, or any other 
mere passive instrument. The body is the instrument of 
the mind. 

Implies Intelligence. — A moral act is always an intelli- 
gent act. The being v\dio performs it must be capable of 
comprehending himself, and his own activity ; must know 
v/hat he is about ; must understand the bearing of what he 
does; must act with reference to some end, and having in 
view the means necessary to secure that end. Mere brute 
instinct differs from this, lacks this ; works blindly ; com- 
prehends not itself, nor what it does ; works from impulse, 
not from intelligence. The brute is incapable of moral 
action. 

Implies Heason. — A moral act is always a rational act. 
A mind destitute of reason may still act intelligently, may 
act with reference to a given end, and adopt the means best 
fitted to secure that end. The insane man does this, and 
often displays no little sagacity and wisdom in the accom- 
jDlishment of his purposes. He knows what he is doing, 
and why he takes this or that means to accomplish his 
purpose. He acts intelligently, but not rationally. His 



PROVIiTCE OF RIGHT. 



61 



mind is disordered in its action. And so far as this is the 
case, he is not responsible for his actions. They are not 
properly moral acts. It may be, and often is, extremely 
difficult to decide in such cases whether, and in what 
degree, the mind really is insane, and therefore irresponsi- 
ble ; under cover of this doubt and difficulty, many a crime 
doubtless goes unpunished ; but where it is evident that 
reason no longer keeps her throne, by common consent the 
actions of such a mind are regarded as having no moral 
character. 

Implies V^olition. — A moral act is always, I suppose, a 
voluntary act. If any act is strictly involuntary, not pro- 
ceeding from any choice or intention of the doer, mere 
accident, or mere instinct, or muscular reaction, — as the 
springing when a window falls, or the closing of the eye 
Avhen a blow is suddenly aimed at it — actions which are 
not only without intention and volition, but which no j)ur- 
pose or effort of will could wholly prevent, — such an act, 
surely, has no moral character. It falls not within the 
province of right. That only is a moral act which is vol- 
untary, freely put forth of choice and purpose — which we 
could have refrained from doing, had we chosen. 

On the same principle, so far as our thoughts and emo- 
tions are strictly involuntary, not within our own control,- 
they cannot properly be classed among our moral acts. It 
is a principle of the plainest justice, that a man is to be 
held responsible only for such actions as lie within his 
jDOwer to do or not to do. No law can place me under 
obligation to perform an act which it is wholly out of my 
power to perform, — as, e. g.^ the lifting of a mountain ; nor 
yet to refrain from doing what I cannot possibly, by any 
effort or volition of mine, avoid doing. To such acts neither 
virtue nor guilt attaches — neither praise nor blame. What- 
ever mental activity is of this sort, strictly involuntary and 

6 



62 



PROYIXCE OF RIGHT. 



beyond our control, is to be classed in the same category 
with involuntary muscular movements or contractions. 

To a great extent, however, both thought and feehng are 
moral acts, since indirectly^ if not directly^ it is in our power 
to shape and control them. I cannot, indeed, by a direct 
act of will, call up or prevent any thought or feeling ; but 
still it is in my power to determine the general course and 
direction of both. I cannot, perhaps, avoid certain emo- 
tions, in view of certain objects presented to the senses or 
to the thoughts ; but I can avoid the perception of those 
objects; can shut the eye and the ear upon them ; can fix 
the thoughts ujDon other things, and thus avoid the emo- 
tions which they are fitted to awaken. In so far as I fail 
to exert this control over my own mental activity, in so 
far I am responsible ; in so far the act is of a moral char- 
acter. 

Implies a Horal Faculty. — If I mistake not, there is 
still another element involved in all moral action — viz., a 
capacity for perceiving moral distinctions, a power of dis- 
tinguishing between right and wi'ong. This we may call 
the moral faculty. Where this is entirely wanting, I cannot 
conceive of j^raise or blame, virtue or guilt, as properly at- 
taching to the conduct. Such a being is certainly not a 
proper object of law, nor of reward and punishment. This 
is the case with the brute, and it is the crowning difference 
between the brute and man. The former has no conception 
of rioht orwrono^ in conduct — no idea of oblio-ation — no 
feeling of self-approval, nor yet of regret, and remorse, for 
anything it has done. The brute has no conscience, and, 
for that reason, is not a moral being. If the human mind 
is ever reduced to such a condition, whether in the state of 
idiocy, or in certain forms of insanity, as no longer to pos- 
sess the power of recognizing and feeling moral distinc- 



PROVINCE OF EIGHT. 



63 



tions, its acts, in such a case, could not be called moral 
acts : they have no moral character. 

§ n, — Ijf WHAT CONSISTS THE MOKALITT OF ANT GIVEN AcT 1 

Question stated. — When any act is perceived to have 
a moral character, whether right or wrong, the question 
may still arise. In what consists, or where lies, the moral 
quality — the virtue or the guilt — of that act ? Wherein 
does the virtuous aj^t, for example, differ from any other? 

This is quite a distinct question from the one discussed 
in the preceding section, and deserves special considera- 
tion. 

Does the morality pertain to the external act, the physi- 
cal movement which performs Avhat the will intends ; or 
does it lie in the volition^ the simple act of will which im- 
mediately precedes the external act ? Or is it in the reso- 
lution, previously formed, to j^ut forth such a volition when 
the proper time shall come? Or in the thought of tlie 
mind which lay back of all this, and which led to the 
resolution, and so to the deed ? Or, if not in any of these, 
then is it to be found in the intention, or design, with 
which the act is performed ? 

JSTot in the External Act. — Evidently not in the external, 
physical act does the morality lie. That, in itself consid- 
ered, has no moral character. The bodily organism is 
merely the instrument of the intelligence, which animates 
and controls its movements; and those movements, in 
themselves, have no more moral character than the move- 
ments of a saw, or any other merely passive instrument. 
Accordingly, the sam.e external act, as performed by dif- 
ferent actors and under different circumstances, may vary 
exceedingly in its moral character; and that variation 



64 



PROVINCE OF RIGHT. 



may run tlirongh tlie whole scale of morality, from the 
deepest degree of guilt to the highest degree of virtue. 

Let us suppose a case — the taking of human life, for 
example. It is done in malice, or for gain. That is mur- 
der. It is done by the executioner, in obedience to law. 
That is a simple act of justice. It is done to save life. 
That is self-defence. It is done by accident, without de- 
sign. That is no crime. Yet in all these cases the exter- 
nal act may be the same, the instrument the same, the 
effect produced the same. 

Evidently the moral quality lies not in the external act. 

N'ot in the Execiitwe Volition. — Nor yet does the morality 
pertain to those mental states which immediately precede, 
and give rise to, the external act ; since these are, neces- 
sarily, the same, whatever the moral character of the act. 
The volition which immediately precedes and produces the 
movement of the arm by which a blow is struck, is one and 
the same thing, whether that blow results in murder, or 
in the execution of justice, or in accidental homicide, or in 
self-defence. In any case, it is simply a volition to strike 
a blow by the movement of the arm. And so, also, of the 
resolution which precedes the direct volition, or effort of 
the will. Whatever imi3arts moral character to the act, 
taken as a whole, imparts it also to these constituent ele- 
ments of the act ; but in themselves, neither the external 
movement, nor the direct volition to move, nor the resolu- 
tion or purpose to put forth such a volition, have any dis- 
tinctive moral character. There is something else always 
to be taken into the account before we can determine the 
moral character of any of those elements which are in- 
volved in a moral act. 

Consists in the Intention. — That which gives character 
to the act, and which alone determines its moral quality, 
is the intention or design with which the act is performed. 



PROVI^^CE OF EIGHT. 



65 



In tlie case supposed, it was the intention of one man to 
commit murder; he struck the blow for that purpose, 
with that design ; and this intention constitutes his guilt. 
Hence he would have been really guilty of murder, in 
the sio-ht of Him who knows the secrets of the heart, 
even had the blow failed to accomplish its purpose. The 
intention, the design was — murder. The intention of 
another man was the simple discharge of his duty as an 
officer of justice — a right intention, and so a right act. 
The design of another was to defend himself, or others, 
from lawless violence; and if we are satisfied that this 
was really his purpose, and that the act was necessary 
to that end, or even that he believed it to be so, we justify 
him at once from the imputation of crime. Still another 
man intended by the blow merely a certain mechanical 
effisct ; but the instrument which he wielded for that 
purpose, glancing from its intended course, struck down a 
bystander. The result was accidental. He who struck 
the fatal blow had no such design, and this being once 
ascertained, there is no longer the charge of guilt. 

We act upon this Hide. — In estimating the character of 
actions, we always proceed upon this principle. We look 
at the intention, the design of the doer ; we seek to know 
what the person meant ; and if we are satisfied that no 
wrong was intended, we exculpate him from blame ; other- 
wise we hold him guilty. It is not so much the actual re- 
sult as the intention that we look at. So, in respect to 
our own conduct, it is not so much what was actually 
accomplished, for good or ill, as what was designed and 
attempted, that forms the standard by which we estimate 
our own guilt or innocence — our good or ill desert. The 
good man, sacrificing and toiling much for some worthy 
end, but all to little jDurpose, consoles himself by the 
reflection that his actions are to be weighed, not by their 



66 



PROVINCE OF RIGHT. 



success, but their design ; that he deserves well who meant 
and endeavored well. 

Where we are satisfied, on the other hand, that an act, 
however desirable in itself, is prompted by no good inten- 
tion, we hesitate to assign it the rank of a virtue. A ruler 
requu'es the loyalty, love, and obedience of his subjects. 
That obedience they may render, however, not from loyalty 
or love, but from fear, or the desire of gain. With such 
obedience he is not satisfied. It is an obedience rendered, 
not for the sake of honoring or serving the ruler, but with 
a purely selfish design. There is no virtue in such obedi- 
ence. The case is the same with resj^ect to the j^arent and 
his children, and with respect to man in his relations to the 
Supreme Ruler. God looks at the heart, scans the purposes 
of man ; and as is the meaning and intention of the man, 
so, in his sight, is the man himself 

Virtue iv/iat. — On the principle now established, we 
may define morality or virtue to be the cloing right, inten- 
tionally, and because it is right. That alone is strictly a 
virtuous act which is done voluntarily — done as right, and 
because it is believed to be right ; in other words, which 
is done from a sense of duty. Whatever neglects, over- 
looks, or violates this rule, whatever other character it may 
possess, is not of the nature of true virtue. "That is a 
virtuous action," says Chalmers, "which a man voluntarily 
does on the simple ground that he ought to do it." 



FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 



6T 



CHAPTER V. 

FACULTIES OF THE MIND COGNIZANT OF EIGHT. 

To explain in detail the operations of the several mental 
faculties, is the province of Psychology. To this it per- 
tains to treat explicitly of the moral faculty, the power of 
the mind by which it perceives and recognizes moral truth, 
and also of the emotions awakened in view of such truth. 
So intimately, however, are these themes related to the 
Philosophy of Morals, that it seems necessary to consider 
them briefly in this connection. For a more full discussion 
of the nature and power of Conscience, the reader is re- 
ferred to the sections which treat of these topics in my 
work on Mental Philosophy. 

A^ialysis of Goiiscience. — When any moral act — our 
own, or that of another -r- is presented to our thoughts as 
an object of distinct consideration, the process through 
wdiich the mind passes is somewhat peculiar, and will be 
found, if I mistake not, to comprise several distinct steps 
or elements, essentially the same in all cases. There is, in 
the first place, an impression, or j^erception, more or less 
clear and decided, that the act in view is a right or a 
wrong act — whichever it may be — a recognition of it as 
such. This is an exercise of judgment, an intellectual 
operation. The proposition, or affirmation of the mind, 
in view of the case, is ^'•That is right,'' or ^^That is not 
rightP This decision is more or less clear and positive, 
in proportion as the act contemplated is more or less 
strongly marked in its features and general character. In 



68 



FACULTIES OF THE MIXD 



some cases we hesitate, and form a doubtful opinion; in 
others, the decision is instantaneous and positive. 

No sooner is this decision reached, than there follows 
another mental state, — the conviction or j^erception of 
obligation in respect to the act contemplated. The jjrop- 
osition now is, " J ought," or " J ought not^'' This, too, is 
an intellectual process, a conviction, a judgment ; not un- 
accompanied, however, with feeling, which is the case 
indeed with most of our intellectual operations. That 
which awakens intellectual activity, awakens also some 
degree of feeling. Hence, we speak of feeling the truth 
of a proposition, or the force of an argument ; of feeling 
our obligation to do this and that. A careful analysis, 
however, will show that the feeling, in this case, is distinct 
from the intellectual perception ; that it succeeds, and is 
based upon such perception, and derives from it whatever 
character and strength it possesses. 

This idea of obligation, it may be further observed, re- 
lates to the past, as well as to the future. I ought to have 
done, or I ought not to have done, this or that, — an act, 
the scene of w^hich lies among the years that are long past, 
and in lands, it may be, remote. It extends also to the 
actions of others. We form our opinions, and pass our 
judgment, on the character and conduct of those about 
whom we read or hear. These persons ought, or ought 
not, to have done thus and thus. 

Further Analysis. — When the obligation to a given 
course is perceived, there follows yet another state of mind, 
— the approbation or disapproval of the conduct, accord- 
ing as it conforms to, or violates that obligation. This 
approving or condemning verdict is also an act of con- 
science, or the moral faculty — one of its specific and appro- 
priate functions. Like the preceding, it is strictly, in the 
first instance, an intellectual act, an exercise of judgment, 



COGNIZANT OF RIGHT. 



69 



a verdict given in view of the case as i^resentecl to the 
understanding ; followed, however, immediately, in many- 
cases, with the strongest emotion. It is a verdict on which 
depends much — often, everythiug that is of value in life. 
Herein lies the power of an approving or accusing con- 
science. The proposition now stands, "I have done well" 
— "I have done ill;" and in that simj)le verdict, calmly 
rendered, but seldom reversed, lies a sustaining or con- 
demning power, greater than that of thrones and armies 
■ — a power that can look danger and death in the face, and 
defy a world in arms — a power that can make the guilty 
man tremble, though surrounded by all that wealth, and 
station, and princely dignity can confer. 

Summary. — These several momenta comprise the es- 
sential elements of what is usually termed conscience, or 
the moral faculty. As thus analyzed, conscience is simply 
the intellect perceiving and judging of moral truth, to- 
gether with a corresponding excitement of the sensibili- 
ties, in view of the objects thus contemplated. The term 
is used, however, to denote not merely, or so much, the 
act itself, the process of mind now analyzed, as the poicer 
of thus perceiving and judging. Wor is it a power, a capa- 
bility merely, which can be exercised or withheld at the 
pleasure of the possessor. It is more than that — a constitu- 
tion of the mind in virtue of which it shall^ under ordinary 
circumstances, perceive, and feel, and act thus — shall rec- 
ognize such distinctions and obligations, and shall, in view 
of the same, pronounce such verdicts. 

Psychologically viewed, it is not so much a distinct fac- 
ulty of the mind, coordinate with perception, memory, imag- 
ination, etc., as a distinct exercise, or department of action, 
of the general faculty of judgment, and of the power of 
feeling, as employed with reference to one particular class 



70 



FACULTIES OF THE MIND. 



of truth, viz., moral. The mind is so constituted, that in 
view of such truth, it shall act as now stated, recognizing 
the right and the wrong of human conduct, measuring its 
actions and those of others by this standard, and approv- 
ing or condemning accordingly. This power we call the 
moral faculty. 

Aiitliority of Conscience. — With regard to the author- 
ity of this faculty, it is evident that, with the view now 
given of the nature of conscience, it is impossible to con- 
sider it as in any sense an infallible guide. It is a moral 
judgment, accompanied by a moral feeling, and, like all 
other judgments and feelings, is liable to err. It is, in this 
respect, on the same footing with all the other powers of 
the human mind. Not one of them is infallible. A man 
may act conscientiously, and still be in the wrong. His 
judgments are not sure to be right. At the best, he is 
liable to err ; and the fact that he goes according to the 
dictates of his conscience, does not free him fi-om this lia- 
bility. He must, indeed, abide by the decisions of con- 
science, and govern his conduct accordingly; but he must 
see to it that those decisions are intelligently formed. He 
must bow to the authority of conscience ; but he must also 
take heed that his conscience is not a blind guide, but one 
on whose eye and oli whose path falls the clear light of 
nature and of reason, and the still purer light of God's 
word. 



NATURE AND GROUND 



OF RIGHT. 



71 



CHAPTER YI. 

HISTORIC SKETCH OF OPINIONS RESPECTING THE NATURE 
AND GROUND OF RIGHT. . 

It is often of the highest service, in our investigation of 
truth, to know the opinions which have been held by oth- 
ers, and the results at which other minds have arrived, as 
regards the matters in question. Especially is this the 
case with regard to the questions which have occupied us 
in the preceding chapters. A brief outline of the various 
opinions which have been held by writers of different 
periods, both ancient and modern, as to the nature and 
foundation of right, may give us a clearer view of the 
matter discussed, and serve to fix in our minds the prin- 
ciples advanced in the preceding chapters. We begin 
with the philosophy of the ancients. 

Doctrine of Socrates. — Socrates may be regarded as 
the first of the ancient philosophers who gave special 
attention to the nature of virtue. His teachings lay the 
foundation of scientific ethics; but only the foundation. 
His doctrine of right is a peculiar one. Virtue is nearly 
synonymous with hioioledge^ in the Socratic system. The 
doing., is consequent upon the knowing^ of what is good, 
and best to be done. Nothing is virtuous in conduct, 
which is done without discernment. Hence, no man is 
voluntarily vicious. He does as well as he knows. 

As to the question what things are right, and what are 
wrong, the teachings of Socrates do not furnish an explicit 
answer. He refers us to tlie laws of the land in which we 
may happen to live, for the establishment of specific ethi- 



72 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



cal rules ; and while he does not expressly teach that the 
foundation and ground of right is its utility^ still he has 
much to say of the utility of virtue. 

Disciples of Socrates. — 1. The Cynics. — Virtue, ac- 
cording to the Cynics, consists in a life according to nature; 
a complete independence of all arbitrary and conventional 
laws and usages ; the absence of, and entire freedom from 
all wants and all desires ; complete superiority to all these 
things. To such an extent did they carry this doctrine, 
as to render both themselves and their j^hilosophy objects 
of general aversion and contempt. 

2. The Cyrenaics. — With the Cyrenaics, on the con- 
trary, pleasure is the chief good, and virtue is to be com- 
mended and pursued, as conducing to this result — the 
means to this end. Socrates had given prominence in his 
teachings to the happiness which virtue affords. Aristip- 
pus, looking solely at this, makes happiness the chief end 
of man, and recommends moderation, self-control, self-cul- 
ture, as the most direct means to the attainment of this 
end. 

Doctrine of Plato, — Plato holds fast the Socratic no- 
tion of virtue as science — a thing to be learned. In 
respect to the highest good, he takes a middle ground, 
between the conflicting schools just mentioned — neither 
admitting, wdth the Cyrenaics, that pleasure is the chief 
' good of life, nor, with the Cynics, rejecting it entirely, as 
unworthy of regard. 

The idea of the good and the evil, according to Plato, 
is not derived immediately from sense, as are our percep- 
tions of external objects, but constitutes, along with kin- 
dred ideas, as of the beautiful, etc., a distinct and peculiar 
province of knowledge, an a priori faculty of the mind. As 
back of the senses, and their 2:)erceptions, there lies a 
power that can compare and contrast these percei^tions 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 



73 



one with another, — a power of the soul superior to sense, 
and independent of it, — so, in like manner, the soul, by 
its own inherent activity, conceives and distinguishes the 
beautiful and the odious, the good and the evil. This fac- 
ulty is what, in the different schools of modern philosophy, 
passes under the name of original, or intuitive conception, 
original suggestion, the reason, etc. 

In one point, the ethical philosophy of Plato seems to us 
defective. The conception of duty — the rights as such, in 
distinction from the merely good — is nowhere distinctly 
and prominently brought out, but lies quite in the back- 
ground. This is a defect, however, which pertains equally 
to the Socratic ethics. 

Doctrine of Aristotle. — The great mistake which, from 
Socrates onward, has prevailed respecting the nature of 
virtue, that it is one and the same with knowledge, is, in 
the philosophy of Aristotle, for the first time, distinctly set 
right. Virtue is with him not so much an intellectual ele- 
ment and process, as a moral one ; it is not a knowing, but 
a doing. The doing, according to Socrates and Plato, is 
consequent upon the knowing ; if a man knows the good he 
will do it. With Aristotle, on the contrary, the knowing is 
consequent upon the doing; the more a man does, and 
seeks to do the right, the better he will know the right. 
To make virtue a merely intellectual afi;iir, overlooks, 
according to Aristotle, an essential element of our nature, 
— i. e., the moral element, the natural instinct of the soul, 
which demands and strives for the good, and which ap- 
proves and is satisfied with that only which is right in 
human conduct and endeavor. Virtue is not so much, then, 
a thing to be learned, as a thing to be done or practised, 
in the following out this natural craving and Instinct of 
the soul. It is by the practice of virtue that we become 
virtuous. Virtue is the liahit of doing right, l^ature lays 

7 



74 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



the foundation in so constituting the mind that it craves 
and approves the good ; reason and intelligence build on 
this foundation ; habit confirms and binds together the 
whole. Our good and evil dispositions are originally in 
our own power ; but when once formed, by habit, to virtue 
or to vice, they are no longer under control. 

The highest good, the chief end and motive of human 
endeavor, Aristotle concedes to be happiness in some form. 
But, then, what is happiness ? Not the gratification of the 
senses, surely ; for, in this respect, man is in no way supe- 
rior to the brute. The true happiness for man is the highest 
activity of his intelligent nature, the unrestrained energy 
of well-being and of well-doing, which satisfies all the 
conditions of his mental and moral nature. It is the 
perfect activity of a perfect life. 

In practical matters, virtue lies in pursuing the right 
mean between opposite extremes. Thus justice is the 
moral mean between doing wrong and suffering WTong. 
This mean varies with circumstances and individuals. 

Doctrine of the Stoics. — The Stoics make much account 
of law and order in the universe. Everything must con- 
form to the order of nature. The highest law of human 
action, the highest end of life, is to shape our conduct 
according to the universal law of nature, and live in har- 
mony therewith. Live according to thy rational nature, is 
the practical maxim, or rule of life, of the Stoics. 

But pleasure is not a good — has no moral worth — is to 
be disregarded and despised. It is no end of nature, but 
something accidental. It is not an activity, but a passive 
state of the soul, a limitation of that activity which alone 
is the true blessedness. External good of every kind is 
morally indifferent ; virtue alone is real good. Actions, of 
course, are to be regarded as good or evil, not according 
as they result in advantage or disadvantage to the doer, 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 



75 



not according to their tendencies and consequences, but in 
themselves. A certain course of conduct is to be approved 
and pursued, not because it conduces to health and happi- 
ness, but for its own sake. Health, wealth, happiness, are 
indifferent and worthless — to be preferred, perhaps, to 
sickness, poverty, and the hke, but not to be considered as 
good in themselves. 

The good man is he who governs himself according to 
reason ; the bad man is he in whom reason is not awakened, • 
but instinct has the mastery. And, inasmuch as every man 
is under the dominion of one or the other, the good man is 
wholly good, and the bad man wholly bad. Nor are there 
any degrees of virtue, — all good acts are equally good, and 
all bad acts equally bad. 

The system of the Stoics was, it must be confessed, 
rigorous and severe. As compared with the ethical phi- 
losophy of Aristotle, it strikes one as ideal, and impracti- 
cable. 

Doctrine of the Epicureans. — Quite the reverse of this 
was the ethical system of the Epicurean school. In com- 
mon with most of the preceding schools, they make the 
highest good consist in happiness ^ but then, the chief ele- 
ment of happiness is pleasure^ — so that this may be re- 
garded as the highest good. By pleasure, however, they 
do not mean merely the gratification of the present mo- 
ment, but that which will ensure the happiness of the 
whole life. Even pain, if it will lead to a greater pleasure, 
is to be welcomed. The pleasures of the soul, accordingly, 
are of greater account than those of the body merely, since 
the former are lasting, and the latter momentary. And, 
what is more, pleasure is inseparable from a virtuous life. 
There can be no true and lasting happiness without vir- 
tue. As thus defined, the system of the Epicureans is 
equally removed from that of the Cyrenaics on the one 



76 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



hand, who regard pleasure as the chief good, but mean 
thereby chiefly the pleasures of sense, and from that of the 
Cynics and the Stoics on the other, who regard all pleasure 
as a thing to be despised. 

Ethical Philosophy of the Moderns. — Thus far ' our 
attention has been directed to the ethical doctrines of the 
ancients. Turning now to more recent times, we shall find 
the same great questions arising for discussion, which we 
have found agitating and dividing the ancient schools, — 
e. g.^ the nature of virtue, and the ground of right — 
w^hether right and wrong are independent principles, or 
whether they are* to be estimated according to the results, 
the advantages and disadvantages to which they lead. In 
tracing these doctrines, I can refer only to the views of the 
more prominent authors and schools of philosophy. 

Early English Moralists. — Since the prevalence of 
Christianity, and the purer views of morality which it 
could not fail to introduce, the idea of right as an inde- 
pendent principle of action — the idea of duty^ in distinction 
from the merely good — has been brought more prominently 
to view in the systems of morality. The same is true, also, 
of the principle of conscience. The nature and authority 
of conscience have been much in dispute; but by gen- 
eral agreement it has been regarded as the foundation of 
moral science. A great part, in fact, of the ethics of the 
seventeenth century consists of the discussion of cases of 
conscience. The Reformation, doubtless, led the way to 
this, by teaching that the conscience cannot be safely 
entrusted to the keeping of the church and the clergy, or 
subject to any human authority; but that every man is 
individually responsible for his own belief, and his own 
actions. As early as the twelfth century, indeed, we find 
Ahelard teaching that the fundamental rule of duty is the 
divine will, as revealed in conscience and in Scripture. 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 77 

The early English moralists take essentially the same 
ground. Jeremy Taylor^ in his Rule of Conscience^ makes 
the authority of conscience the basis of his system of 
morals, and quotes with approbation the saying of St. Ber- 
nard : " Conscience is the brightness of the eternal light, 
the spotless mirror of the divine majesty, and the image of 
the goodness of God." The doctrine of Taylor is, that as 
God is present, governing the world by his providence, so 
he is present in our hearts by his laws, governing us by 
conscience, which is his substitute, or representative. This 
gives to conscience not merely a place as the foundation 
of morals, but clothes it, in a sense, with a divine com- 
mission and authority. This view of conscience as, con- 
jointly with Scripture, the ground and acknowledged basis 
of morality, seems to have been very generally enter- 
tained by the leading minds of the seventeenth century in 
England. 

Theory of Hohhes. • — This view was not without antag- 
onism. A powerful opponent arose, at once subtle and 
bold, in the person of Thomas Hobbes, the philosopher of 
Malmesbury, who held that Law, or the State, is the origin 
of all rights and duties. In the state of nature, every man 
is at war with every man, and in such a state there are no 
rights or duties, — "The notions of Eight and Wrong, 
Justice and Injustice, have there no place." From this 
state of nature man emerges into society, and the civil 
body, or the State, is, as a matter of self-defence, con- 
structed. This it is which gives law, — and thus arises 
duty and the nature of right. The doctrine " that every 
private man is judge of good and evil actions^' he pro- 
nounces a poisonous and seditious doctrine, dangerous to 
the State; "whereas it is manifest that the measure of good 
and evil actions is the Giml LawT To him who lives in 
civil society " the Law is the public Conscience by which 

7* 



78 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



he hath ah-eady undertaken to be guided." This anni- 
hilates at a blow man's moral nature, and resolves morality 
and duty into the power of the civil arm. Might makes 
right. 

These principles were received with very little favor, 
and called forth many replies. As Whewell very justly 
remarks, however, these tenets, so starthng and offensive, 
were very far from being new. " The whole of this con- 
troversy had agitated the schools of philosophy many ages 
earlier." It was in substance the same question which 
comes up for discussion so frequently in the dialogues of 
Plato and of Cicero, whether right and wrong are inde- 
j^endent qualities of actions, or whether they are merely 
terms to denote the advantages or disadvantages that 
result from certain courses of behavior. This question, dis- 
cussed, as we have seen, by Cynic and Cyrenaic, by Stoic 
and Epicurean, runs through the whole history of morals. 

Oudioorth. — One of the principal ojjponents of this 
scheme of Hobbes was Ralph Cudworth, who, in his Trea- 
tise concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality^ takes 
the ground that our perception of right and wrong is 
an ultimate fact in our nature, that these ideas are simple 
and incapable of analysis, and that the mind is able to 
form them antecedently to positive institutions. He shows 
that the doctrines of Hobbes were but the revived dogmas 
and sophistries of earlier schools — essentially the very 
dogmas against which Plato argued in condemning the 
doctrine of Protagoras, that all our knowledge is derived 
from sense. With Plato, he maintains that some of our 
ideas proceed not from sensible objects, but from the mind's 
own activity ; among these the idea of right and wrong ; 
and that these ideas, though existing only in the mind, are 
not creations of the mind, but reahties eternal and immu- 
table. 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 79 



Doctrine of Locke. — The doctrines of Locke have 
been the occasion of much dispute. It is by no means 
easy to assign to this distinguished man his true position 
in philosophy and morals. It seems clear, however, that 
whatever may have been his own personal views and feel- 
ings, the tendency of his philosophy was quite in the 
opposite direction to the system of Cudworth and the in- 
dependent moralists. Deriving all our simple ideas from 
sensation and reflection, or the observation of things with- 
out, and of our own mental operations, he seems to leave 
no place, according to this account of the matter, for the 
ideas of right and wrong. These, consequently, are not 
simple and original ideas, but derived — the result of edu- 
cation. 

Accordingly, moral good and evil are not, in this philos- 
ophy, independent principles. " Good or evil are nothing 
but pleasure or jDain, or that which occasions or procures 
pleasure or j)ain to us. Moral good and evil, thus, is only 
the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions 
to some law whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the 
will and power of the law-maker; which good and evil, 
pleasure or pain, attending our observance or breach of 
the law, by the decree of the law-maker, is that we call 
reward and punishment." — (Book II., ch. 28, § 5.) This 
manifestly places Locke in the lower school of moralists, 
in distinction from the higher ground of Plato and Cud- 
worth. The morality of his system is that of consequences 
rather than of eternal and immutable distinctions. The 
tendency of his philosophy, it may be remarked, was much 
further and stronger in this direction than he himself was 
probably aware. Like most great minds, he seems to have 
held views inconsistent with his own system. His philoso- 
phy led to results which he would by no means have 
adopted. 



80 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



Clarke and Price. — In opposition to the views of 
Locke, and in accordance with the system of Cudworth, 
Dr. Samuel Clarke maintains the eternal nature and inde- 
pendent character of moral distinctions. These eternal 
differences and relations of things detennine the essential 
fitness and reasonableness of certain courses of conduct, 
and the unfitness and unreasonableness of the opposite 
courses. With reference to this fitness, the will of God 
always chooses ; and creatures ought also to choose with 
reference to the same. Duty, obligation result from this 
source, independent even of the divine will, and of all 
prospect of reward or gain. 

Dr. Price, also, in opposition to Locke, ascribes the ori- 
gin of our ideas of right and wrong to the understanding^ 
or the reason, which terms are used to denote the general 
faculty of intelligence, and which is affirmed to be "itself 
a source of new ideas." We reach these ideas by means 
of an intuitive perception, or intuitive judgment. They 
express qualities of actions, and not mere impressions and 
sensations, pleasurable or painful, of our own minds ; real- 
ities, eternal and immutable. 

Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Hume. — With the writers now 
named, there comes into use a new mode of expressing 
and accounting for our moral ideas and perceptions. It 
was now asserted that there is a peculiar faculty of the 
mind whose office it is to perceive these distinctions, and 
to this faculty the name of the moral sense was given. 
Shaftesbury., himself an advocate of the independent and 
original nature of moral distinctions, introduced this use 
of terms. He speaks of the sense of right and of wrong, and 
calls it the moral sense. He likens it to the natural sense 
of the sublime and the beautiful. Hutcheson gives greater 
prominence to this view, and makes it the basis of his sys- 
tem. We have a natural sense or instinct for the right, as 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 



81 



we have for tlie beauty of color or sound — as we have in- 
stincts and affections for other specific objects. Hume^ 
adopting this view, and carrying it to its extreme results, 
makes virtue and vice, as well as beauty and deformity, 
matters of mere taste or sentiment. Right and wrong do 
not denote any independent quality in the object thus des- 
ignated, but only an effect or sensation produced in our 
own minds; just as sweet and bitter, the pleasant and the 
painful, are merely our own sensations, and not properly 
qualities of objects. Referring to the doctrine — supposed 
to be fully proved in modern times — " that tastes and col- 
ors, and all other sensible qualities, lie not in the bodies, 
but merely in the senses," he adds : "The case is the same 
with beauty and deformity, virtue and vice." — (Essays, 
Part I. Essay XYIIL) Thus we are brought back again, 
in the revolving cycle of opinion, to the old doctrine of 
Protagoras, that nothing is true or false, any more than 
sweet or sour, in itself, but only with reference to the per- 
ceiving mind. Whatever anything seems to be, to any 
mind, that, and that only, it is. 

Butler. — The writings of Butler have justly placed him 
in the front rank of English moralists. He asserts, more 
clearly, perhaps, than any i:)receding writer had done, the 
existence of a moral faculty, while he nowhere closely 
or sharply analyzes the precise nature of this faculty. 
His principles are those of the independent school of mor- 
alists, that right and wrong are something in themselves, 
and not merely in their consequences. Still, these princi- 
ples are nowhere very distinctly announced or systemati- 
cally defended. He seems purposely to have avoided 
technical or philosophical terms, and to have expressed 
himself in common and popular language, in treating of 
this class of subjects, — a language not always sufiiciently 
definite for philosophical purposes. He is classed among 



82 



HISTOEIC SKETCH, 



the unsystematic moralists by Wliewell. N'ot withstanding 
some vagueness of expression, however, Butler clearly 
maintains the independent nature of. moral distinctions. 
There is a difference, he holds, among our faculties, not of 
degree, merely, but of kind, — some are superior to others, 
of higher authority ; and the faculty to which belongs an 
authority and supremacy over all the rest is conscience. 

Warhurton. — Dissatisfied with the doctrines of Cud- 
worth, Clarke, Price, and Butler, on the one hand, as plac- 
ing the ground of morals in the eternal fitness of things, 
and also with the moral sense of Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, 
and their disciples, as reducing morality to a mere senti- 
ment or taste, a class of moralists arose who maintained 
that the loill of God is the basis of morality and source 
of obligation. We need look no further than this. To 
know that the divine will requires a given thing, is of itself 
suflicient to put us under obligation to do that thing. 
There is no morality without law, no other basis of obli- 
gation than the divine command. Such was the view of 
"Warburton. He lays it down as an axiom that " Obligation 
necessarily implies an obliger." The action is thus regarded 
not as right or wrong in itself, and obligatory because right, 
but only as commanded. This view became, for a time, 
the prevalent mode of thought, and gave character to the 
moral teaching, especially of the university of Cambridge. 
It is the view maintained essentially by Laio^ Professor of 
Moral Philosophy in the university, and still more fully 
by Waterlajid^ Master of Magdalen College. 

Pcdey and his followers. — This view received still fur- 
ther development and modification at the hands of a wri- 
ter more vigorous and popular in his style, and far more 
widely known, than either of those just mentioned. I 
refer to the celebrated Dr. Paley. To resolve all obliga- 
tion into the mere command of God, might seem somewhat 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 



83 



arlbitraiy. Is there not a reason why God commands what 
he does ? Seeks he not always the happiness of his crea- 
tures ? Is not this, then, the real and ultimate criterion of 
duty ? Paley was not the first to combine these two prin- 
ciples. Mr. Gay, Fellow of Sidney College, Cambridge, 
author of the dissertation on the Nature of Virtue prefixed 
to King's Origin of Evil, had already advanced this view. 
" Thus the will of God is the criterion of virtue, and the 
happiness of mankind the criterion of the will of God; 
and therefore the happiness of mankind may be said to be 
the criterion of virtue but once removed." Gay, accord- 
ingly, defines virtue to be " conformity to a rule of life, 
directing the actions of all rational creatures with respect 
to each other's happiness ; to w^hich conformity every one, 
in all cases, is obliged." The same doctrine is also advanced 
by Tucker, author of the " Light of i^'ature Pursued," a 
work frequently referred to by Paley. This author regards 
the highest good " to be none other than pleasure, or sat- 
isfaction ; " and speaks of it as absurd to talk of things as 
being right in themselves, without regard to consequences, 
inasmuch as " things are rendered right by their tendency 
to some end." We are now fairly and fully again upon 
the morality of consequences, of utility, and expediency, — 
no new doctrine, as we have seen, in the history of morals. 
It is evident, likewise, that Paley is by no m^ans original 
in advancing this system at the time when he wrote. The 
writings of Xato, and especially of Gay, and Tucher, and 
Rutherforth, had fully prepared the way for it. 

Paley defines virtue to be " the doing good to mankind, 
in obedience to the will of God, and for the sake of ever- 
lasting happiness." It has been frequently and very justly 
objected to this scheme, that it recognizes only one class 
of duties — those to mankind ; and also that it seems to 
make it essential to a virtuous act that it should be done 



84 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



for the sake of future reward. In carrying out this philos- 
ophy, Paley loses sight of the idea of Hglit^ and of duty as 
based on the right, and resolves all obligation into mere 
command, without reference to the question what we 
ought to do. In this he follows Warburton and the Cam- 
bridge moralists; but goes further than they had done, 
inasmuch as he makes moral obligation the result, not from 
the will of God alone, but from any command or will of an- 
other which we cannot well resist. The sum and substance 
of duty is to act with regard to the highest expediency. 

Priestley and JBentham. — The i^hilosoj^hy thus intro- 
duced anew to public notice, became immensely jDopular. 
It was at once adopted in the university of Cambridge, 
where, as we have seen, the same doctrine had for some- 
time previously been taught. Among those who, about 
this period, take substantially the same ground, must be 
reckoned two distinguished writers on Political Science, 
— Priestley and Ben tham, — neither of whom, however, is 
to be regarded as properly a follower of Paley. Indeed, 
Priestley had, in his Essay on Government, published some 
seventeen years before the appearance of Paley's works, 
distinctly announced " the greatest happiness of the great- 
est number'*'' as the true and only proper object of govern- 
ment. Bentham founds his system of j^olitical morality 
expressly on*this principle — utility; by which he means, 
as above, the greatest happiness of the greatest number. 
There is no essential difference between this doctrine and 
that of Paley. 

Stewart. — In opposition to these views, Dugald Stew- 
art, in his Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers, 
takes decidedly the ground of the earlier English moralists, 
and holds moral distinctions to be eternal and immutable. 
The words right and wrong express qualities of actions, 
and not consequences merely. When we say, of an act of 



NATURE AND GROUND OF RIGHT. 



85 



justice, that it is right, we do not mean, with Shaftesbury 
and Hutcheson and Hume, simply that it excites pleasure 
in the mind, as a particular color pleases the eye ; nor, with 
Hobbes, that society and the strong arm of the state re- 
quire it ; nor, with TVarburton and the Cambridge men, 
that the will of God makes it imperative, and that is the 
end of the matter; nor yet, with the school of Paley and 
Bentham, that it is expedient^ useful^ for the highest hap- 
piness of all ; but, on the contrary, to say that such a 
thing is right, is to assert that respecting it which is 
quite independent of our constitution ; as much so " as the 
equality of the three angles of a triangle and two right 
angles." — "For my own part," he says, "I can as easily 
conceive a rational being so formed as to believe the 
three angles of a triangle to be equal to one right angle, 
as to believe that, if he had it in his power, it would be 
right to sacrifice the happiness of other men to the grati- 
fication of his own animal appetites." 

HaU. — There were not wanting among the theological 
and popular writers of England, many to raise their voice 
against the dangerous tenets of the school of Paley. 
Robert Hall, among the more modern writers, thus indig- 
nantly rebukes this false philosophy : "How is it, that on 
a subject on which men have thought deeply, from the 
moment they began to think, and where, consequently, 
whatever is entirely and fjndamentally new must be fun- 
damentally filse — how is it, that in contempt of the expe- 
rience of past ages, and of all j^recedents, human and 
divine, we have ventured into a perilous path, which no 
eye has explored, no foot has trod ; and have undertaken, 
after the lapse of six thousand years, to manufiicture a 
morality of our own — to decide by a cold calculation of 
interest, by a ledger-book of profit and loss, the preference 

8 



86 



HISTORIC SKETCH. 



of truth to falsehood, of piety to blasphemy, and of hu- 
manity and justice to treachery and blood ? " 

American 3Ioralists. — In the preceding sketch, I have 
confined myself thus far to the oj^inions of English writers. 
Of the French and German philosophers, in so far as they 
have discussed the particular topics now before us, the 
limits of the present chaj^ter do not allow me to speak. 
In our own country, the two great systems ■ — that of inde- 
pendent morality, and the morality of consequences — have 
each had their adherents. Edwards^ the distinguished 
theologian, in his dissertation on the Nature of Virtue, 
regards virtue as "the heauty of those qualities and acts 
of the mind that are of a moral nature," and defines it as 
consisting essentially in '■'henevolejice to Being in general^'' 
and more particularly in love to God, as the greatest and 
best of beings. This benevolence he regards as a higher 
principle tlian that moral sense, or conscience, that is nat- 
ural to mankind. 

Dr. Wayland. — Dr. Wayland regards the ultimate rule, 
the basis of morals, as consisting in, and arising out of, the 
essential relations of things ; as, e. g.^ the relation of parent 
and child, of state and citizen, of creator and creature. 
These relations once known, certain ohligations and duties 
also become manifest. 

Dr. HicJcok. — According to this eminent moralist and 
philosopher, the highest good, the ultimate rule and test 
of action, the basis of moral obligation, is v'orthiness of 
spiritual approbation., conformity to the sjnrifs own in- 
trinsic excellency. This ultimate right is simple, immu- 
table, and universal. 



DIVISION SECOID. 
PRACTICAL ETHICS. 



\ 



PRACTICAL ETHICS. 



PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS AND CLASSIFICATION. 

Our attention has hitherto been directed to those prin- 
ciples which lie at the foundation of ethical science — 
principles, a correct understanding of which is of the 
highest importance, if not indeed indispensable to our 
progress, as we enter upon the second of the two great 
departments into which moral science was divided at the 
outset. 

Before proceeding to the consideration of the several 
duties of which this part of our science is to treat, it seems 
necessary to fix upon some convenient classification of 
these duties ; to this end, a general survey of the field we 
are about to investigate, and some analysis of the several ' 
branches of duty, become desirable. 

General Division. — As we cast our eye over the vari- 
ous lines of conduct which constitute the practical duties 
of life, a general division strikes us at once. Some of 
these duties seem to have more direct reference to our- 
selves, others to our fellow-men, others still to our Maker. 
These would seem to be the natural divisions into which 
this department of the science falls. 

And yet, such is the nature of duty, that a wrong done 



8* 



90 



PREL1MI2TARY Ai^ALYSIS. 



to- one's self, is also a wi'ong done to society and to God ; 
and so of all tlie other departments of duty. It is impos- 
sible to neglect or violate a duty to society, or to God, 
without injury to self, — so closely interlinked is the whole 
circle of duties, and of interests, each with the other. 
Only in a general sense, then, and merely for the sake of 
convenience, can any such division be made as that now 
jDroposed. In like manner, we may regard the bodily or- 
ganism as composed of different members, or i^arts, — the 
head — the trunk — the limbs, — while at the same time 
the system of bones, of veins, of nerves, j^ervades the 
whole; and to injure one of the members, or parts, is to 
injure the whole system. 

Further Analysis. — Adopting the general division al- 
ready indicated, we have, I. The duties which relate more 
directly to self! Of these the principal are, 1. The duty 
of Self-siqyport. 2. Of Self-defence. 3. Of Self-control. 
4. Of Self-culture. 

II. The duties which relate more directly to cue fel- 
LOW-ME^f. Of these, some are general^ relating to man as 
siich, or to society at large. Of this class are the duties 
respecting X,iberty, Property^ Reputation^ 'Veracity. 
Others, again, arise from the particular institutions of so- 
ciety, and the relations that thus spring up betv^'een the 
different jDortions of the community, as thus united. Of 
this class are the duties arising from the Family Relation.^ 
as those of Husband and TTife, Parent and Child ; and 
also the duties pertaining to the State, as those of the Cit- 
izen or Subject, of the Government, and of States among 
themselves. 

III. The duties which more directly relate to the Sr- 
niEME Beixg. Of these, the j^i'incipal are the duty of 
Reverence, of Love, of Obedience, of Worship. 



PRELIMINARY ANALYSIS. 



91 



Nummary of Classes. — Omitting now the more general 
divisions, the following principal classes or departments of 
duty present themselves for investigation, in their order : 

I. DUTIES TO SELF. 

II. DUTIES TO SOCIETY. 

III. DUTIES TO T-HE FAMILY. 

IV. DUTIES TO THE STATE. 

V. DUTIES TO GOD. 



These will constitute the several parts of the second 
division of our science, i. e., of Practical Ethics. 



P AET I. 



DUTIES TO SELF. 



It is necessary, as we proceed, to bear in mind the 
remarks already made, that no duty is to be regarded 
as exclusively a duty to ourselves, nor yet to society, nor 
to the state. The duties which we owe to ourselves are 
also, in a sense, duties which we owe to the family, to 
society, to the state, and to our Maker. These all receive 
injury by any neglect or injury of ourselves ; and these 
all have an interest, accordingly, in the faithful observance 
of the duties due to self At the same time, there are 
certain duties which relate more specifically and directly 
to ourselves. Of these the chief are. Self-support^ Self- 
defence^ Self control^ and Self-culture, These will be con- 
sidered in successive chapters. 



CHAPTER 1. 

SELF-SUPPORT. 

General Statement. — There are certain things which 
every one must do for himself, which others either cannot, 
or, under ordinary circumstances, will not do for him. 
Among these is the duty of providing for his own physical 
wants — the duty of self-support. Every one owes it to 



SELF-SUPPORT. 



93 



himself to make such provision for his own wants as not to 
be dependent on the charity of others. 

Nature intends this, and makes provision for it by con- 
ferring upon us those powers and faculties which are 
requisite to the various pursuits of industry, and by attach- 
ing to honest labor the reward of success, to idleness the 
penalty of inevitable suffering and want. These are the 
laws and conditions of our being, established by the 
Creator, fixed and immutable. He that will not work, 
neither shall he eat, is the universal law of the race. Labor 
is requisite in order to the production of the fruits of the 
earth. The food that sustains us, the fabrics that clothe 
us, the dwellings that shelter us from the inclemency of 
the seasons, — whatever contributes to the comfort and sup- 
plies the varied and innumerable wants of man, — is the 
product of labor. Now, this labor, that is universally 
requisite to supply the wants and gratify the desires of 
men, is something which every one is bound to perform for 
himself. 'No one has a right to require another to labor 
for him unrequited. I may exchange labor for labor, — I 
may give money, which is simply the representative of 
labor already performed, for the labor of others which I 
wish to procure. Lacking this, I must earn my bread by 
my own toil. I have no right to compel another to labor 
for me without reward. Nor has another any right to 
require this of me. 

Exceptions to the Hule. — The only exceptions, I sup- 
pose, to this law of self-support, are those cases in which 
there is a real inability to labor. When, in consequence of 
sickness, casualty, or constitutional deformity, there is 
lacking, either wholly or in part, the power to provide for 
one's own subsistence, to that extent is the person thus 
incapacitated freed from the duty of self-support, on the 
obvious principle that it is unjust to require of any man 



94 



SELF-SUPPORT. 



what he cannot possibly perform. Hence the duty of 
others who are able to labor, or who possess in abundance 
the means of life, to provide for the necessary wants of the 
sick and suffering; but not to support in idleness those 
who are able to labor. 

Conditions essential to Self-support. — In order to make 
suitable provision for one's personal wants, certain con- 
ditions are absolutely essential. I?idustry is necessary — 
the diligent, faithful pursuit of some honest calling ; but 
not industry alone. To acquire is merely one part of the 
business. If we expend our acquisitions as fast as we make 
them, there is no provision for the future. Frugality is 
necessary, as well as industry. !N"o man has a moral right 
to expend all that he earns, if by so doing he leaves him- 
self, or those dej^endent on him, without adequate provision 
for future support. Industry and frugality become virtues 
when directed to this end ; and the want of them becomes 
a sin against God and man. It is the duty of every man, 
not absolutely incapable of the thing, to take care that 
neither himself nor those dependent on him shall become 
a tax upon the industry and toil of others. Hence the 
duty both of industry and frugality on his part. It was a 
wise remark of an ancient Greek philosopher, that wealth 
consists not so much in great possessions as in small 
wants. It is not the man that acquires the least who is 
the poorest, nor is he the richest and most prosperous who 
gains the most. 



SELF-DEFENCE. 



95 



CHAPTER II. 

SELF-DEFEXCE. 

Reasonahle. — The same rule that makes it a duty to 
provide for the further subsistence of the body, in order to 
the preservation of life, justifies and requires its defence 
from hiwless aggression and violence, for the same end. 
If it is duty to preserve life by supplying the bodily wants, 
it is a duty to preserve it by guarding against needless 
injury and destruction. If it is incumbent on us to take 
precautions against disease and accident, it is equally our 
duty to T\'ard off the attacks of sudden violence, 'whether 
of man or beast ; and if, in order to this, a resort to ex- 
treme measures becomes necessary, then we are justified 
in resorting to such measures. 

The reasonableness of this view will appeal*, if we reflect 
that every man is by the constitution of natm'c, in an im- 
portant sense, his own guardian. He is to look after his 
own interests, and attend to his own wants. Ko one else 
can do this for him. His own life and safety are of vastly 
more consequence to him than they are to any one else. 
If he is too negligent, or indolent, or cowardly, to protect 
his own life and person against lawless aggi-ession, he is 
fiilse to himself. 

Hence, it is the instinct of nature, as well as the dictate 
of reason, to defend ourselves when in danger. It has 
been called, not improperly, Nature's first law. It is a con- 
stitutional impulse, and he who implanted it in the human 
mind had a design to be accomplished by it. In yielding 
to this impulse, within due bounds, we are simply carrying- 
out this design. 



96 



SELF-DEFENCE. 



Due not to Ourselves alone. — ]^or is this a matter merely 
allowable — a thing to be justified, merely. It rises to the 
rank of a duty, and that not to ourselves only. It is not a 
matter in which we only are concerned. Others have an 
interest in it. Our lives are of value to many beside our- 
selves. If we fall under the blows of the assassin, we 
leave others, unprotected and helpless, it may be, depend- 
ent on the charities of the world, to struggle with mis- 
fortune and want. This calamity we have no right to 
entail upon them. 

We owe it, also, to many who are not directly depend- 
ent on us. Were it understood that, whether from lack 
of right or lack of courage, men would not defend them- 
selves when attacked, acts of violence would be much 
more numerous than they are. Every instance of resolute 
self-defence acts as a preventive of similar crime. The 
safety of the entire community is in a measure entrusted, 
in such cases, to our keeping. 

Objection. — But do not the Scriptures forbid self-de- 
fence ? Did not Christ command us, when smitten on one 
cheek, to turn the other also ? I reply, it was not the inten- 
tion of our Saviour, in those words, to forbid self-defence 
in cases of real danger, but only the exercise of a revenge- 
ful and quarrelsome spirit. Better even to suifer a repeti- 
tion of the wrong and abuse, than on slight and needless 
grounds to engage in controversy. That Christ did not 
mean to forbid self-defence in cases of serious danger, is 
evident from his permitting his disciples to arm them- 
selves, on at least one occasion. " He that hath no sword, 
let him sell his garment and buy one." — "And they said. 
Lord, behold here are two swords." — "And he said unto 
them, it is enough." One of these swords vrns actually 
used in defence of his Master, by one of the disciples, but 
a short time after these words were spoken. Now, al- 



n-1 



SELF-DEFENCE. 97 

though the purpose of Christ required that he should be 
given up at this time to his enemies, and therefore defence 
was not necessary, and so not allowed, still, our Saviour 
would not have spoken in this manner, much less have 
permitted his disciples actually to arm themselves, and 
even to draw and use the sword in the instance referred 
to, had he regarded all self-defence in such cases as sinful, 
and therefore to be condemned. 

Further Objection. — But it may be said, why not leave 
the defence of person and jDroperty to the law, which is 
the properly constituted guardian of the rights of the 
community ? I reply, in all cases where a resort to the 
law is possible, this should be done. We are entitled, as 
citizens, to the protection of the civil arm ; and where the 
case admits of appeal to that protection, it is undoubtedly 
the proper mode of defence. But in many cases, such an 
appeal is out of the question. When attacked by the 
midnight robber and assassin, the j^rotection of my life or 
property is, by the very circumstances of the case, commit- 
ted to my own hands. I must resolutely and instantly 
defend, or tamely surrender them. Now, when it comes 
to this, as it often does, which of the two shall die, — the 
assailer or the assailed, — no reason can be shown why I 
should prefer the life of the aggressor to my own. He de- 
serves to die. The very act of violence which he is per- 
petrating forfeits his claim to life. I have the right to 
live, and to defend myself that I may live. 

Limitations of the Rule. — Within what limits, it may 
be asked, and on what occasions, is the resort to extreme 
measures justifiable in self-defence? The case already 
supposed suggests, I think, the true limit. I am author- 
ized to take the matter of protecting my person and prop- 
erty into my own hands only when there is no other appar- 
ent and probable mode of defence ; and I am at liberty to 

9 



98 



SELF-DEFENCE. 



resort to extreme measures in tlie case only when milder 
measures will not .answer the purpose. If a simple warn- 
ing, or the mere presentation of a weapon, is sufficient to 
deter the aggressor from his purpose, I am not justified in 
doing more, since self-defence in that case does not require 
it. But if I can preserve my own life only by taking his, 
or if I have reason to believe that this is the only alterna- 
tive, the measure is justifiable. 

It is to be observed, moreover, that it is only from law- 
less violence that life is to be preserved at the expense of 
life. Suppose, when attacked, I act upon the principle of 
self-defence. The assailant becomes himself assailed, and 
it may be that his life, in turn, is in danger. Is it for him 
now to proceed upon the principle above stated, and pre- 
serve his own life by taking mine? Would he be justified 
in so doing? Manifestly not. The violence from which I 
defend myself is lawless ; that from which he defends him- 
self is laiofid. He had no right to put my life in danger ; 
I have the right, in self-defence, to endanger his. 

On the same principle, the prisoner under sentence of 
law, or under arrest, is not at liberty to set himself free by 
an attack upon his keeper. The right of self-defence does 
not belong to him under those circumstances. 

Further Limitation. — It may admit of serious question, 
whether, for the defence of property alone, where life is 
not also at stake, it is right to take human life. A robber 
assails me on the highway. He demands my property 
merely, and promises that my life and person shall be un- 
harmed, in case I surrender my purse. He has no right to 
make that demand, much less a right to threaten my life, 
in case of refusal. I can protect my property only by tak- 
ing the life of the aggressor. Have I a right to do so ? 
In the eye of the law, I should be guilty of no crime, in 
the case now supposed, were I to do this. But have I a 



SELF-DEFENCE. 



99 



moral riglit? Where my life is in peril, and can be pre- 
served only by the death of my assailant, I am at liberty 
to defend myself to the last extremity, since my life is^ at " 
leasts of equal value loith his. But is it certain that my 
property is of equal value with the life of the assailant ? 
This is not so clear. There may be cases in which the 
protection of property may be justifiable, even at the ex- 
pense of life. But, where any doubt remains, it were cer- 
tainly better to part with any amount of property, rather 
than to incur the guilt of unlawfully shedding human 
blood. 

Defence of the Rights of Others. — I would by no 
means be understood as limiting the right of defence to 
those cases in which our own life, person, or property is in 
danger. The same principle extends to the rights of oth- 
ers. The lives, the safety, the property of others, may be 
committed to our care, and dependent on us; in that case, 
the same reasons that render the defence of our own lives 
or property justifiable, require us to defend tlieirs. Every 
man owes it both to himself and to ]iis family, to defend 
from danger those who look to him as their natural guar- 
dian and protector. 

A Questionable Case. — It may sometimes happen, in 
other cases besides those of lawless aggression, that our 
own lives, or property, can be protected only at the ex- 
pense of the life and property of another. My neighbor's 
house and my own are both in danger of destruction, by 
fire, at one and the same moment. There are means of 
preserving one of them, but not both. Which shall it be ? 
Does duty to myself require me to protect my own prop- 
erty at the expense of his? A plank, floating on the 
water, comes within my reach as I am strugghng for life. 
It is sufficient to bear up one alone. At my side is another 
person, also strugghng for life. Does the law of self-pro- 



100 



SELF-COJ^TEOL. 



tection apply in such a case ? It is difficult to lay down 
any rule that shall apj^ly to all such cases. They must be 
determined according to circumstances. As a general 
principle, it is better to suffer harm ourselves, than to pro- 
tect ourselves at the risk of injustice to others; better 
always to suffer wrong, than to do wrong; and where 
there is danger of wronging another, in the ax;t of protect- 
ing self, it would be the impulse of a true and generous 
heart to forego the claims of self-protection. There can 
be no doubt on which side we shall be most liable, in such 
cases, to err. The danger is, that selfishness will prevail 
over a due consideration of the rights of others, and that 
the instinct of self-preservation will prove stronger than 
all our scruples. 



CHAPTEH III. 

SELF-CONTROL. 

Peomixext among the duties which we owe to our- 
selves, is that of self-control. This relates to the govern- 
ment of the temper, and of all those appetites, propensi- 
ties, and passions, which, while having their foundation in 
the constitution of our nature, require to be kept under 
restraint, subject to the dictates of reason and discretion. 

As relates to the Temper. — Every man owes it to him- 
self to maintain perfect control over his own temper. I 
refer more particularly to those feelings of indignation and 
resentment which naturally arise in view of injury received, 
and which is properly called anger. These feeHngs require 
to be held in check with a firm and steady hand. Unre- 
strained, they trample on all that is sacred, and subject 
reason, judgment, principle, the man himself, to their 



SELF-CONTROL. 



101 



petty tyranny. They destroy character and influence, 
and shorten life itself. 

The man who has no control over himself in this matter, 
— whose anger breaks forth, lawless and ungovernable, on 
every provocation, — is wholly at the mercy of events. He 
is not his own master. He is like one afflicted with the 
St. Vitus' dance, who has no control over his own move- 
ments, but must go when the fit takes him, wherever he 
may be, Nay, worse ; it is in the power of his enemies to 
bring the fit of anger upon him, and make themselves 
merry at his expense. 

These feelings are capable of control. By due care and 
self-discipline, they may be brought into subjection to rea- 
son and the will. But to do this, requires effort, resolution, 
vigilance. It is the work of time. There is, however, no 
nobler conquest for any man to make than the conquest 
of himself; none, perhaps, more difficult ; must I add, none 
more seldom made. It is easier to subdue kingdoms, and 
lead armies captive, than to subdue and lead captive one's 
own rebellious passions. Hence it is, that "He that is slow 
to anger, is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his 
spirit, than he that taketh a city." For want of this con- 
trol, many of the greatest men in the world's history, 
most distinguished for valor and brilliant achievement, 
have been really among the weakest of men — objects of 
compassion rather than of envy to every sensible mind. 
The hero who wept that there were no more worlds to 
conquer, seems never to have learned that within his own 
bosom lay a restless and turbulent kingdom, over which, 
with all his armies and all his power and valor, he had as 
yet attained no dominion. 

As relates to other jPassions and jPrope7isities. — But 
self-control relates not to the temper alone ; it implies the 

9* 



102 



SELF-CONTROL. 



clue restraint of all our passions, appetites, and propensi- 
ties. It includes what we mean by temperance, in its 
widest sense — abstinence from all those excesses and 
vices which injure the health, impair the strength and 
activity of body and mind, weaken the character and in- 
fluence, cut short the life. To yield to the passions and 
appetites of the animal nature, without restraint, involves 
these consequences. They may be remote, and slow of 
approach, but they are sure. The eternal and immutable 
Jaws of nature have established this connection, and de- 
creed these results. They are not to be avoided. Hence, 
it is one of the plainest dictates of prudence, one of the 
first and most imperative duties which w^e owe to our- 
selves, to keep these appetites and propensities of the ani- 
mal nature under strict control. If to defend the person 
from the violent assault of robber or assassin, be a duty, 
much more to defend the mind and moral nature from 
injury and ruin. Sensuality ruins both body and soul. 
He who yields to this foe is lost. 

It may be diflicult, in many cases, to assign the precise 
limit within which indulgence of the appetites is allow- 
able, and beyond which it becomes a crime. Such limits 
there are ; and it is for each one, by careful observation, to 
determine for himself where they lie. One thing is cer- 
tain, that he who finds the demands of appetite increasing 
upon him beyond his power of successful resistance, has 
already passed that limit. 

Objection. — It may be urged by some, that, inasmuch 
as the passions and propensities of our nature are a part of 
our original constitution, and, in a sense, the gift of the 
Creator, it is therefore right to indulge the same, without 
other limit than that which nature itself imposes ; in other 
words, without restraint. This is the practical philoso- 
l)hy according to which too many, doubtless, are disposed 



SELF-CONTROL. 



103 



to goTern their conduct. It is a philosophy, however, as 
folse as it is shallow — at war not more with reason and 
revelation than with the common sense of mankind. • The 
fact that a given propensity or passion is founded in the 
nature with v/hich the Creator has endowed us, is surely 
no warrant for the indulgence of that proi3ensity or pas- 
sion beyond the limits which the Creator has himself as- 
signed. He who indulges his j^assions without restraint, 
transgresses these limits, and, in reality, does violence to 
his own nature. Self-control, firm and habitual, is not less 
the dictate of reason than the command of God. 

Necessary to Self-respect^ and the Respect of Others. — 
The exercise of a due self-control, both in regard to the 
temper and the various animal propensities of our nature, 
is necessary to all true self-respect. Ko man who is under 
the dominion of his baser appetites and passions, can truly 
respect himself. He knows his own w^eakness and degra- 
dation ; knows and feels that he is a slave, that the sceptre 
has departed from him, that the crown of his integrity and 
honor is in the dast. The effect of this is most disastrous 
upon the character. He who has lost his self-respect, has 
lost that which no gold can buy. His courage and his 
moral strength are gone ; nor can virtue long maintain its 
ascendency in the absence of this principle. 

Self-control is necessary also in order to the respect of 
others. No man can for any length of time receive the 
real homage and respect of others, who lacks the mastery 
of himself. Station, power, wealth, may do something for 
him ; native talent and genius, still more ; but not even 
these can ultimately keep back from merited contempt the 
helpless slave of his own miserable passions. Sad indeed 
is the spectacle, of one born to high honors, and endowed 
by nature with princely gifts, from whose hand is stricken 
the sceptre of dominion over his own spirit. 



104 



SELF-CULTURE. 



CHAPTER lY. 

SELF-CULTURE. 

Statement. — To abstain from those things which injure 
us, to avoid those excesses and undue indulgences of the 
natural appetites and propensities which work mischief and 
ruin, is a duty, but not the whole duty which every intelli- 
gent rational being owes to himself. There are things to 
be attained, as well as things to be avoided ; positive, as 
well as negative duties. Self-culture, not less than self- 
control, becomes imperative. I have no right to neglect 
my own highest welfare and advancement. My duty is 
only in part performed when I refrain from that which 
positively injures and degrades my mental or bodily 
powers. It is m.y duty to develop and cultivate those 
powers to the highest degree of which they are, under the 
circumstances, susceptible, — to make the most of the 
fi^culties with which nature has endowed me. This is the 
duty of every man — a duty which he owes first of all to 
himself, but not to himself alone. The family, the state, 
society at large, the Creator — all have an interest in this 
matter, and are concerned in its performance or neglect. 
The highest wrong is done not to self alone, but to others, 
by every instance of such neglect. 

Extends to lohat. — The duty of self-culture includes in 
its proper province the entire range of our natural faculties, 
whether of body or mind. It includes physical culture not 
less than mental. A healthy and well-developed physical 
organism is one of the very choicest goods of life ; and, in 
so i'Av as it is a result to be attained by careful training and 



SELF-CULTURE. 



105 



culture, it is a duty imperative on every man to make that 
attainment, and to put forth the effort necessary to it. A 
sound mind in a sound body, is a maxim true in philoso- 
l^hy and true in morals. The history of the Greeks shows 
what may be done in this branch of education. In mod- 
ern times, and more esj^ecially among our own couotry- 
men, this department of education has fallen into disrepute, 
and been very generally overlooked. The theory wuth us 
is to discipline and develop the mind, arid let the physical 
powers take care of themselves. Our institutions of learn- 
ing, our whole educational system, look cliiefly to this. It 
admits of serious question, whether in this we are not 
commirting a radical mistake. So intimate is the connec- 
tion between the j^hysical and the mental state, that the 
highest condition and most favorable development of the 
latter can hardly be secured without due attention to the 
training and discipline of the former. 

Includes also 3Iental Discipline. — Self-culture extends 
also to the improvement of the intellectual and moral 
powers. No man is at liberty to neglect his own mental 
discipline and culture. Js'ot even are the claims of busi- 
ness paramount to this. No pressure of professional or 
business engagements can justify the neglect of mental 
discipline. No man in tliis busy world has a right so to 
involve himself in the pursuits and cares of active life, that 
it shall be outr^of his power to give both time and care to 
the improvement of his own mind. Nature never intended 
this. He wdio made the mind, and endowed it wdth its 
wondrous faculties, had no such intention. 

Nor is the culture of the mind to be made subordinate 
to success in the various employments of life, and to be 
pursued merely as a means to that end. A means to that 
end it unquestionably is. But that is not the whole or the 
chief reason why it should receive attention. The im- 



106 



SELF-CULTURE. 



provenient of the mind is, in itself^ a good of iHestiniable 
worth, aside from all the gain that comes of it in the 
more successful pursuits of life. A well-cultivated mind, 
richly stored with the best acquisitions, is itself a treasure 
with which no material wealth can compare. " For wis- 
dom is better than rubies ; and all the things that may be 
desired are not to be compared to it." 

JSTot limited to the Intellect. — Nor is the duty of which 
I speak limited to the culture of the intellect alone. Mem- 
ory, imagination, judgment, the reasoning powers, taste, 
conscience — all are to be educated and strengthened ; but 
the sensibilities also claim regard, and likewise the loill. 
These great dej^artments of the mind's activity are not to 
be overlooked in the process of mental training. The 
heart requires education and discipline, as well as the 
head ; the feelings, no less than the intellectual powers. 
He only is the symmetrical, fully developed, well-educated 
man, with whom all these faculties of his higher and spirit- 
ual nature have received due care and training. He who 
fails of this, fails in one of the first duties which he owes 
to himself 

Encouragements to this loorh. — Very great are the 
inducements, very j^ressing the motives, to the faithful 
j^erformance of this duty. Other acquisitions are external, 
and of precarious tenure ; these, a part of the soul itself — so 
much of real value added to the man. Other riches may 
take wings ; this is the true wealth that remains, while 
the mind itself has any being, its inalienable- inheritance. 

Nor does success in this work dej^end wholly on early 
advantages. In the absence of these, amid the pressing 
cares of active life, much may be done by judicious method, 
industry, and perseverance, to repair the deficiences of 
early training. Many of the brightest names in literature 
and science attest the truth of this. 



PAllT II. 

DUTIES TO SOCIETY. 



CHAPTER I. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. 

Value of Life. — Of the duties wliicli we owe to our 
fellow-men in general, one of the most imperative is the 
regard which is due to human life. Life is one of the 
greatest goods, one of the first and chief rights of nature. 
In coraj^arison with it all other natural goods and posses- 
sions are of little account ; since, when life itself is at an 
end, all those possessions and enjoyments which pertain to 
and depend upon it are also ended. "All that a man hath 
will he give for his life." Hence, to take human life, has 
been resjarded in all ao-es as a sjreat crime. It is to rob a 
man of all his possessions and enjoyments at a stroke, to 
cut him off from all his plans of business, or of pleasure — 
from all the pursuits and all the friendships of life, and to 
usher him, without warning or preparation, into the scenes 
of a new and untried existence. 

The injury thus done is irreparable. Property taken by 
fraud or violence, may be restored ; reputation unjustly 
assailed, may be made good ; health may be regained ; 
but life itself destroyed, it is not in the power of man to 



108 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. 



make good the loss. Hence a ^^eculiar sacredness at- 
taches to human life. It is the gift of Deity. Man cannot 
impart it; and what he cannot bestow, he has no right 
to take away. Only he who gave it can authorize its 
destruction. 

Distinctions Recognized. — The laws of the state make 
certain distinctions in the crime of taking human life ; as 
murder, manslaughter, etc. It is sufficient, in morals, to 
draw the broad distinction between the premeditated and 
intentional, and the merely accidental taking of life. The 
former incurs the highest guilt ; the latter may be inno- 
cent. It is not a violation of the moral code, provided it is 
not the result of carelessness which might and should have 
been avoided. If, by reckless driving through the streets 
of a crowded city, life is sacrificed, the doer of the mis- 
chief is responsible for his carelessness, though not guilty 
of murder. If, by the recklessness of an engineer, the 
vessel, or the car, with its freight of life, is driven to de- 
struction, the author of the calamity, though not justly 
chargeable with intentional murder, is by no means free 
from the guilt of taking human life. In such cases, the 
laws of most nations arraign him for manslaughter., making 
the distinction between that and the premeditated and 
intentional taking of life, which is denominated murder. 

When the crime is not only premeditated, but secret 
in its execution, the agent not exposing his own life by 
giving the victim an opportunity of self-defence, there is 
added to the guilt which otherwise and necessarily pertains 
to the act, the meanness of cowardice. The murderer 
under such circumstances becomes the assassin. 

When an unlawful assault is committed, such as from 
its nature must be more or less dangerous to life, should 
such assault ultimately result in death, although such 
result may not have been strictly intended by the assailant, 



DUTIES PEETAINING TO LIFE. 



109 



Still, as the act was itself unlawful, a crime, and not an 
accident, the author of the violence is not free from respon- 
sibility for the fatal consequences. He is guilty of man- 
slaughter. 

In general, with respect to injuries inflicted upon the 
person, malicious intention is inferred from the act itself ; 
and whatever consequences result, are presumed in law 
to have been intended, unless there are some mitigating 
circumstances to excuse the act, and to show that it was 
unintentional. 

When one person kills another in the heat of passion, in 
a sudden quarrel, arising from provocation, and without 
previous intention to take life, it is also, in English and 
American law, termed manslaughter ; but if the passions 
have had time to cool, and the person provoked afterwards 
kills the other, it is regarded as murder. 

The term homicide is usually, in law, applied to denote, 
in general, the taking of human life, whether by design or 
unintentionally, including murder and manslaughter, etc. 
When the act is purely unintentional and accidental, it is 
termed excusable liomicide. The Jewish law, even in such 
cases, gave no protection to the slayer, unless he took 
refuge in certain cities specially designated as places of 
refuge. The 'English law imposes a fine on the person 
who has committed excusable homicide, — a fine which, 
however, in practice, is remitted, — and also makes him 
forfeit the instrument with which the offence was com- 
mitted. This is termed a cleodand^ and the law exacting- 
it is still in force. 

Homicide Justifiable in ichat Cases. — There is a dis- 
tinction in law between justifiable and excusable homicide. 
The cases just referred to, where the slaying is simply 
accidental, are instances of excusable homicide, though not 
perhaps justifiable. Homicide in an unpremeditated af- 

10 



110 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. 



fray, though strictly in self-defence, is in English law also 
regarded as excusable rather than justifiable. This is 
termed chance-medley. "When death occurs as the result 
of any game which is likely to end in blood, — as of box- 
ing, sword-j^laying, etc., — or as the consequence of any 
dangerous and unlawful act, — as shooting, or casting stones 
in a town, — the homicide is not in law justifiable : it may or 
may not be excusable. By the public laws of Athens and 
Rome, he who killed another in the public games author- 
ized by the state, was not held guilty of homicide ; so by 
the English law, death resulting from the exercise of any 
sports and games authorized by the king, is regarded as 
excusable homicide. 

By the old Jewish and Roman laws, as well as by the 
laws of England and of our own country, homicide is 
Justifiable when committed in self-defence from any un- 
laAvful and violent assault, or for the prevention of any 
atrocious crime. If any one attempts robbery or murder, 
and is killed in the attempt, the killing is justifiable. The 
Jewish law justifies the slaying of the robber only in the 
act of breaking open a house, and that only in the 7iight 
time : " If the sun be risen upon him, there shall be blood 
shed for him." The Roman law was similar, with this 
difierence, that a thief detected by day might be slain, 
should he defend himself with a weapon, provided the 
slayer first make outcry for help. Roman law allowed any 
one to slay a person assaulting him with a weapon, whether 
the assailant were a robber or not, provided the assailed 
was in fear of his life, and could in no other way efiectu- 
ally protect himself English law allows the same. 

The laws of Solon make the same distinction as the 
Jewish and Roman law between the slaying of the robber 
by night and by day. The ground of this distinction is 
evidently this : that in case of night attack, greater danger 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. Ill 



to life may fairly be presumed on the part of the person 
assailed, inasmuch as he cannot so fully know the precise 
extent of his danger, and cannot so readily obtain help. 
He may therefore be justified to the extent of his supposed 
danger. By day there are other means of redress. 

Execution of Laio. — There are cases in which human 
life becomes forfeited by crime, and the laws of the land 
and the voice of universal justice demand the payment of 
the forfeit. In such cases, not justice to the criminal alone, 
but justice to the whole community, and the safety of the 
whole, require the death of the criminal. The very sacred- 
ness of human life demands this protection from the hand 
of violence, and makes it an imperative necessity that 
"Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be 
shed." In no other way can the proper protection be 
thrown about the innocent and defenceless, than by mak- 
ing the life of the murderer the penalty of his crime. 
When an officer of justice, in pursuance of the sentence 
of law, takes hunian life, under such circumstances, he is 
of course not guilty of a crime, but, on the contrary, is 
discharging a high and solemn duty. 

In other cases, — as where an officer, in the discharge of 
bis official duties, is violently resisted and assailed ; as, for 
example, by a prisoner seeking to make his escape, or 
resisting the process of arrest and imprisonment, — a ne- 
cessity may exist for the resort to extreme measures ; and, 
in such a case, should the person thus resisting be killed 
by the officer, in the attempt to discharge his duty, the act 
must be pronounced justifiable. 

PalUating Circumstances. — The instances to which I 
have referred may be regarded as cases of justifiable homi- 
cide. They all fill under the law of self-protection, or the 
protection of society. There are many cases, however, 
which do not properly fall under that rule, yet where the 



112 



DUTIES PERTAINIJiTG TO LIFE. 



circumstances are such as, while they do not justify, at 
least palliate, in some measure, the guilt of homicide. 
Some oiFence, perhaps, has been committed, which the law 
either takes no cognizance of, or which is beyond the 
power of law adequately to redress. The provocation is 
great, the injury deeply felt, the course of justice slow and 
uncertain, and even at the best, the punishment of the 
offender, provided, by some defect of evidence or some 
quibble of the law, he do not ultimately escape conviction 
altogether, is likely to be small in comparison with the 
injury committed. The temptation, in such a case, is 
great for the injured man to take the law into his own 
hands. 

There may be cases in which circumstances shall seem 
to palliate, in a measure, the wrong of such a 23rocedure; 
but no circumstances, however they may excuse, can jus- 
tify the taking of life by way of revenge, or redress for 
wrong committed, whether the injury be to the person or 
to the character and reputation of the injured party. 
Whatever be the loss, whatever the dishonor, the person 
injured has no right to be himself the judge or the execu- 
tioner of justice. He has no right to touch the life of his 
enemy. The law alone has that right ; and if not man, yet 
God is just, and will avenge the injured and the innocent. 
Were every man, when wronged, to take the law into his 
own hands, and become his own avenger, the consequences 
to society would be disastrous in the extreme. 

The Duel. — There is a form of homicide, or attempted 
homicide, which differs from any other form of assault 
with intent to kill, chiefly in the fact that it is made with 
the knowledge and cooperation of the party assailed, the 
attempt being mutual. This may be done with mxore or 
less of previous formality. When the challenge to such 
an encounter is previously given and accepted, and the 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. 113 

combat is conducted in accordance with certain rules 
acknowledged in such cases, it is termed a duel, or an 
affair of honor; when Avithout such ceremony, it is simply 
termed a hostile enconnter, and differs little from chance- 
medley, a sudden affray, except that it is premeditated by 
one or both the parties, and not unfrequently anticipated 
by the other. In either case, it is an assault with the 
avowed intent to Idll, with more or less of premeditation 
and mutual consent. 

The history of the duel is not to be overlooked in esti- 
mating its character. It is, beyond doubt, a very ancient 
custom. It seems to have originated in the earlier stages 
of civilization, among rude and barbarous nations, of war- 
like habits. It was virtually an appeal to the Supreme 
Ruler of men and events, to decide the uncertain question 
of right or wrong, innocence or guilt, between the con- 
tending parties. It is closely analogous, in this view, to 
the trial by ordeal, and the judicial combat. Whatever 
apology for this custom may have been found in those 
earlier and ruder times, when law was a less efficient pro- 
tector of the right and of human life, and when every 
man was under the necessity, in a measure, of taking his 
defence into his own hands, no such apology or excuse can 
ordinarily be urged at the j^resent day. It is a relic of 
barbarism, utterly unworthy of the civilization of the nine- 
teenth century. As a means of justice, it is utterly sense- 
less and absurd. At the best, it is an equal chance which 
party shall prevail, the guilty or the innocent. Skill in the 
use of weapons must usually decide this ; and the skill and 
the strength that shall give advantage in the combat are 
quite as likely to be on the side of the wrong as of the 
right. To speak of obtaining satisfoction by submitting 
a dispute to any such process, is simply and purely 
ridiculous. 

10* 



114 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. 



In one respect, the duel is certainly more honorable than 
secret assassination, or some other forms of homicide, inas- 
much as it gives the assailed j^arty warning, and an oppor- 
tunity for defence. Still it is, when not a mere farce, 
intentional murder, and is accordingly so regarded and 
treated by the laws of nearly all civilized nations. 'No 
man has a right to take human life in order to avenge any 
real or supposed personal insult or injury; nor has any one 
a right to expose his own life, in this manner, to the 
murderous assault of a foe. 

^Suicide. — The same reasons that forbid one to take the, 
life of his fellow-man forbid him to take his own. He has 
no more right to cut short his own life than that of another. 
Life is sacred — the gift of the Creator — a treasure which 
it is not allowed us to trifle with, which we cannot confer, 
and therefore have no right to take away. Nor is it a 
wrong done to himself alone, when, with rash hand, a man 
cuts short his own life. Society is wronged. Society has a 
claim on him for life, and lab5r, and valuable service. 
There are those dependent, it may be, on his care and 
toil, who have a still higher claim upon him. He has no 
right to desert them — no right to betray his trust, and 
leave those who are dependent on him to struggle alone 
with misfortune and want. It is his duty, rather, to stand 
up like a true man under the heavy pressure of whatever 
trials and calamities may befall him, manfully bearing the 
lot of life, and by his presence and example, not less than 
his toil, helping others to sustain the heavy load. 

It is a striking instance of the insufficiency of the light 
of nature as a guide to duty, that among the ancients sui- 
cide was regarded as not merely allowable, but, in certain 
cases, commendable ; and was resorted to by some among 
the wisest and the best of the truly great men of that 
time, as an escape from the calamities and burdens of life. 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIFE. 



115 



It is a melancholy spectacle of the imperfection of human 
reason and the human conscience. It was for Christianity 
to reveal the true philosophy of human life, — to make 
known the sacreclness of life, as such, — to teach the far lof- 
tier courage and heroism of patient endurance, — to direct 
the eye of the desponding sufferer to that "far more ex- 
ceeding and eternal weight of glory" for which the pres- 
ent sorrows were intended to prepare him, and to which 
they are the necessary avenue of approach. It bade 
him run with patience the race set before him, fixing his 
eye upon Him, the great heroic sufferer, " who endured 
such contradiction of sinners against himself;" and "who, 
for tlie joy that Avas set before him, endured the cross, 
despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand 
of the Majesty on High." 

It may be added, that the reasons already urged against 
suicide apply equally to any course of conduct by which 
life is shortened, or its energies weakened. ISTo man has a 
riglit to shorten his days, or impair his vital energies, by 
any course of vicious indulgence or excess. This is only 
an indirect form of suicide. Too frequently is this fatal 
error committed by those who, in the heat of passion or 
the ardor of youth, yield to the impulses of the sensitive 
nature, regardless of consequences. And not alone by 
tliose who yield to the dominion of the lower appetites is 
this guilt incurred. In the pressure of business, or the 
ardor of intellectual pursuits, the body and the mind may 
be, and too frequently are, overtasked, resulting in the pre- 
mature decay of the vital powers, and an early grave. It 
is not by direct and intentional acts alone that life is de-; 
stroyed, and the guilt of suicide incurred. 

I would not be understood, in what has been said, to 
imply that life, hovv^ever sacred, is to be preserved at all 
hazards. There are other interests higher and dearer than 



116 



DUTIES PEETAINING TO LIBERTY. 



life itself — interests wliicli we may not sacrifice for the 
sake of 23reserving even life. liatber than betray the cause 
of truth and right, rather than desert the principles of 
justice and honor, and prove recreant to duty and to faith, 
a man may well die. In defence of the innocent and help- 
less, in defence of the right, in defence of his family and 
his country, in defence of his religious belief, he may well 
lay down his life, if need be. As a martyr, as a patriot, as 
a lover of truth and justice, there may be occasion to die. 
Life is not the highest duty nor the most sacred treasure 
of man. 



CHAPTER II. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 

Liberty a Natural Right. — One of the first and plain- 
est natural rights of man is the right to himself, — that is, 
to liberty, — a right to the disposal of his own time and 
industry and personal movements as he sees fit, within 
such limits as the rights and safety of others allow. That 
this is the intention of nature, is evident from the constitu- 
tion of man. He desires liberty, and is never happy when 
deprived of it. He pines for it, dreams of it, toils for it, 
risks everything to obtain it. To deprive him of this 
right, without due cause, is to inflict upon him one of the 
greatest wrongs. There is nothing, next to life itself, with 
which a man will not sooner part than his liberty. 

Modes in lohich one may he deprived of it. — Of this 
right man may be deprived in various ways. Sometimes 
it is justly forfeited by his own conduct; and in that case, 
society has the right to take it from him. Sometimes he 



DUTIES PEETAIXIXG TO LIBERTY. 



117 



is unjustly deprived of it by the violence and cupidity of 
his fellow-man. 

Imprisonment for Crime. — 1. Society may justly de- 
prive a man of liberty by imjyrisonment for crime. This 
the law has a right to do. The protection and safety of 
the community require it. He who violates the rights of 
others, forfeits his own; and the principles upon which 
society is constituted recpiire it, as a measure of self- 
defence, to restrain the liberty of him who abuses his lib- 
erty to the detriment of others. It may justly imprison 
him for trial; and after trial and conviction, it may justly 
imprison him for punishment. It may justly require of 
him, while thus in confinement as a convict, such amount 
of personal labor as shall at least be sufficient for his sup- 
port. The extent and mode of such imprisonment is to 
be determined bylaw. TThen it is protracted beyond due 
limit, or is attended with unnecessary severity, — when the 
term of trial is needlessly delayed, or when a degree or 
mode of punishment is inflicted beyond what the nature 
of the offence strictly demands, — the coercion thus exer- 
cised become unjust, and society is in turn the aggressor. 

Confinement of the Insane. — 2. For the reasons already 
mentioned, it is the right of society to place insane j^er- 
sons in confinement, provided the safety of their families 
and friends, or even their own safety, requires such restraint. 
It is a measure of self-defence, and even of benevolence; 
nor is any wrong inflicted upon the sufferer in such a case, 
provided the deprivation of liberty be not attended with 
any unnecessary severity, or any real unldndness. 

Ccqytiuity in 'Wcir. — 3. Another mode in which one 
may be deprived of liberty, is by ccqitirity in ican. If 
war itself is justifiable, under any cii'cumstnnces, then it is 
allowable for the victorious party to make such disposal of 
its captives taken in -war as shall prevent them from tak- 



118 



DUTIES PERTAIJSTIiTG TO LIBEETY. 



ing further part in hostilities against itself. This can be 
effectually done, jDerhaps, only by imprisonment ; and this 
imprisonment may continue until the close of hostilities, 
unless previously terminated by the exchange of an equal 
number of prisoners taken by the other party. Formerly, 
all captives taken in war were reduced to slavery. This 
was the great source of supply of slave labor, not only in 
Greece and Rome, but in the powerful empires of earlier 
origin. Homer, and the Greek tragedians, re23resent the 
lot of those conquered in war, and also of their wives and 
children, as one of servile and hopeless bondage. Among 
civilized nations, this mode of conducting war is by univer- 
sal consent abandoned. 

Involuntary Servitude. — 4. Still another mode in which 
liberty may be taken away, is that form of involuntary ser- 
vitude known as slavery. As this is a rnatter of much im- 
portance, and one upon the morality of which conflicting 
views are entertained to some extent, especially in our 
own country, it seems to require a more full and careful 
consideration. It will, therefore, constitute the principal 
topic of the present chapter. It will be to the purpose, in 
the first place, to define slavery ; the way will then be pre- 
pared to inquire whether slavery, as thus defined, is a 
moral lorong ; what its effects are upon the nation, both 
as respects morals, and financial prosperity; and, finally, 
what arguments may be adduced in favor of it. These 
topics, in their order, as now stated, will be discussed in 
the following sections. 

§ I. — Slavery Defined. 

When the right of personal ownership and personal 
control, that properly belong to a man, are taken from 
him, for no fault and by no consent of his own, and vested 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



119 



in another, giving to the hitter control over the person and 
industry of the former, the man thus subjected becomes a 
slave, and the one to whom he is subjected is termed the 
master. I say for no fault, and by no consent of his own, 
— for imprisonment for crime, of which I have already 
spoken, is not slavery, though it may be accompanied with 
some degree of involuntary service; there is control, but 
not oionership ; — nor are we at present concerned with 
voluntary servitude, in any of its forms. Slavery, as now 
understood, — that is, as an actually existing institution, — 
always implies oimwrship on the part of the master, and 
involuntary servitude on the part of the slave. 

This ownership is complete, and, to a great extent, irre- 
sponsible. The slave is in the same category with any 
other property or possession — as truly the property of the 
master as the horses or dogs that belong to the same 
plantation. The control of the master over the one is as 
complete, unlimited, and irresponsible, as his control over 
the other. His time, his labor, his acquisitions, his person, 
his children, are not his own, but his master's. He is to 
be bought, and sold, and worked, and whipped, at the mas- 
ter's pleasure. He has no rights of his own. 

Slave Laws accord luith this Definition. — This is the 
character of complete slavery, as recognized by the laws 
of other nations, as well as our own. "Slaves," says 
Gains, the distinguished Roman jurist, "are in the power 
of the masters. Which power, indeed, is one recognized 
by the laws of nations ; for among all nations, it is to be 
observed, that the power of the master over the slave has 
been the power of life and death, and whatever is acquired 
by the slave, is acquired by the master." This we know 
to have been not only Roman law, but Roman custom. 
The slave had neither security of life, nor property in any- 



120 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO 



LIBERTY. 



thing he might acquire. He belonged to another, and not 
to himself. 

The institution of modern slavery is based on the same 
principles. The slave is the property of the master, and 
has no right to himself. The laws of different states vary, 
but the principles of the system are essentially the same in 
all. According to the code of Louisiana, " The slave is in 
the power of the master to whom he belongs. The mas- 
ter may sell him, dispose of his person, his industry, his 
labor; he can do nothing, possess nothing, nor acquire 
anything, but which must belong to his master." Accord- 
ing to the laws of South Carolina, " Slaves shall be deemed, 
taken, reported, and adjudged to be chattels personal in 
the hands of their masters, and possessions to all intents 
and purposes whatever." 

These, then, I take to be the essential elements of slav- 
ery — viz., ownership, j^i'operty, absolute control. Where 
these exist, there is slavery. 

Limitations of Poioer. — Certain limitations of the 
power of the master, may or may not exist in the differ- 
ent states, according as the slave code may be more or less 
strict. In some cases, the master is forbidden to put his 
slave to death, or treat him with unnecessary cruelty. 
Practically, such a limitation amounts to little, when it is 
remembered that the testimony of the slave is not admit- 
ted on evidence in the courts of law, and also that it is 
for the interest of the masters to sustain each other in the 
exercise of discipline and authority over the slaves. It 
must in the nature of the case be extremely difficult, if 
not impossible, under such circumstances, to obtain clear 
and satisfactory evidence of cruelty on the part of the 
master, and equally difficult to secure the impartial admin- 
istration of justice, even in cases of notorious violation of 
the law in question, where the interests of both judge and 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



121 



jury so clearly identify them with the offending party, and 
where the safety and permanent existence of the system 
is seen to depend on firmly sustaining the power and au- 
thority of the master over his slaves. 

But, even if such limitations could be, as they cannot 
be, practically carried out and enforced, they do not 
change the essential character of slavery, as already de- 
fined. They do not make the master less an owner, or 
the slave less property or a chattel. They do not invest 
him with any rights. They are merely a concession to 
the natural feelings of humanity. They are of the same 
nature, as Whewell well remarks, with "the English laws 
against cruelty to animals. It is now penal in this coun- 
try to torture a horse or a dog ; but a horse or a dog are 
still only objects of possession, without any rights, or any 
acknowledged moral nature." 

§ II. — Slavery, as thus Defined, a Moral Wrong. 

It can hardly admit of serious question that slavery, as 
thus defined, involves a moral wrong. In the strong lan- 
guage of Whewell, it is " contrary to the fundamental 
principles of morality." It is a wrong, inasmuch as, 1. It 
violates the natural rights of man. It reduces him from 
^person to a thing — than which no greater wrong can be 
inflicted on humanity. The victim of this injustice is no 
longer, in the eye of the law, a man; he has become a 
mere tiling, has no rights, and, consequently, can suffer no 
wrong. He stands on a level with the brute. He has 
his pleasures and his pains; so has the brute. He has 
his natural impulses and desires ; the brute also has his. 
The strong affections, the tumultuous passions of our na- 
ture, that agitate the bosoms of other men, stir also in 
his ; they have theii* counterjjart, also, to some extent, in 

11 



122 DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 

tlie affections and passions of the brute. ISTor, in tlie eye 
of the state, are these feelings of any more value and con- 
sequence in the one case than in the other. With all 
their natural instincts, thoughts, feelings, passions, affec- 
tions, they are both, the man and the brute, and the one 
equally with the other, the property of the master. 

Yet this creature, this thing, has that which the brute 
has not — a rational and moral nature; and no man, no 
society of men, nor any human legislation, has the right 
to deprive him of it. The law that does this, or attempts 
to do it, is a law without a right. To treat a rational, 
moral being as if he were an irrational and irresponsible 
creature, — a man as if he were a brute, — is to inflict the 
highest indignity and injustice which human nature is 
capable of receiving. 

So palpable is this, that even the Roman jurists admit 
that no man is a slave by nature. 

Another Element of Injustice. — 2. Slavery is a wrong, 
inasmuch as it not only deprives the slave of his natural 
right of self-disposal and control, but subjects him to the 
lawless icill of a master. Irresponsible power is a dan- 
gerous thing. It is never safe to trust any man with it, 
however humane and well-disposed. There is in the hu- 
man bosom, implanted among its native elements, a love 
of power — power over whatever lies about us — power 
over our fellow-men esi^ecially, as being the most difficult 
of control, and affording therefore, when brought under 
subjection, a higher sense of pleasure, amounting to a sort 
of triumph. The man who can command his fellow-man, 
feels his own superiority much more than he who can 
exercise his authority only over the lower orders of crea- 
tion. Now, whenever this power becomes complete and 
unlimited; when its word is law, and must be obeyed; 
when it becomes the power of absolute ownership ; when 



DUTIES PEETAINING TO LIBERTY. 123 



the being who is subject to it has no will nor voice of his 
own, no mode of redress, no rights ; when he is the mere 
property of another; when he and all that is his — the body 
with all its organs and powers, the mind with all its facul- 
ties of action and capacities for enjoyment and suffering, the 
friends that may gather around him, the wife and children 
that may cling to him as their natural protector — all, all 
are entirely at the disposal of another, in the power of a 
master, and that power, for the most part, and to all prac- 
tical purposes, unlimited and irresponsible to any earthly 
tribunal, — who will say that such power as this can safely 
be confided to any man over his fellow-man ? Who will 
say there is no risk in all this — no danger that a power so 
far-reaching and absolute and fearful may be abused ? 

The True Question. — Now, it is precisely this risk, this 
danger of abuse, this almost certainty that, in many cases 
at least, the power in question iinll be abused, that consti- 
tutes in no small degree the guilt of the entire system. 
It is no answer to say, that in many cases the power is 
not abused. Undoubtedly this is true. Unquestionably 
many masters are kind and humane. That is not the 
point. Even if it could be shown that the great majority 
are so, — that kindness is the rule, and cruelty the excep- 
tion, — it would not in the least affect the present argu- 
ment. It is precisely these exceptions, liable at any mo- 
ment and anywhere to occur, impossible of prevention 
— it is this liability to abuse that constitutes one of the 
most appalling features of the system. Is there no wrong 
in subjecting a man endowed by the Creator with all the 
rights and privileges of humanity, possessing a rational, 
spiritual nature that places him, however degraded he may 
be, at an infinite remove from the beasts that perish — 
is there no wrong in subiecting this rational and accountn- 
ble being to a servitude worse even than that of the 



124 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



brutes by so much as his nature is superior to theirs ? 
Is there no wrong in subjecting him to a power which 
may he at any moment and to any degree abused, and 
against the abuse of which he has no safeguard, no pro- 
tection, no mode of redress ? 

A Third Element. — 3. Slavery is a wrong, inasmuch 
as it deprives the slave of that intellectual^ moral, and 
religious culture which is his right. It is essential to 
slavery, as a system, that the slave be kept in ignorance. 
Any considerable amount of instruction would prove fatal 
to the perpetuity of the system. If the slave were once 
to know what are his rights, and in what manner it would 
be possible to regain them, it is obvious that he would 
no longer rest passive under the weight that is crushing 
him to the earth. He must not have access, then, to the 
thoughts that are stirring the mind and heart of the race 
to which he belongs. He must be shut up in a night of 
deepest intellectual and moral darkness. It were not safe 
even that he should know so much as to be able to read 
and write. To some extent, oral religious instruction 
might perhaps be safely imparted ; but even this must be 
kept fully within the control of the master. It would be 
inconvenient, for example, should the conscience of the 
slave, by reason of religious training, interpose itself as a 
barrier to the absolute will and caprice of the master. 
Nor would it be by any means expedient to place the 
Bible, without note or comment, in the hands of a slave 
capable of reading and understanding its pages. That 
book which has proved the great instrument of freedom, 
civil and religious, in the history of the world, — the 
magna charta of human rights, — might teach him truths 
which, as a slave, it were better he should not know; 
might teach him that God has made of one blood all 
the nations of the earth; that to one and the same God 



DUTIES PEETAINIXG TO LIBERTY. 



125 



master and slave stand alike responsible for the things done 
in the flesh, and that this God is no respectier of persons. 

Actual Policy of the jSi/stem. — We find, accordingly, 
that the actual policy of the sys'teni is to keep the slave 
as much as possible in ignorance. To teach him to read 
or write is made, in many of the slave states, an offence 
j^unishable ^vith fine and imprisonment; while to place 
in his hands any document containing information calcu- 
lated to make him discontented with his servitude, is 
thought worthy of the most severe and simimary punish- 
ment. 

ISTeed it be said that this is a moral wrong? Is not 
mental and moral culture the 7'i(//it of every human being 
endowed by nature with an intelligent and rational soul — 
of every being made in the image of his God, made moral 
and accountable? Is not the revealed will of God the 
birthright of every child of Adam — of every fallen, ruined 
being for whom Christ has died ? Have I any right, for 
purposes of my own convenience or profit, to de^^rive 
him of this ? Does the system into whose very founda- 
tion such a prohibition enters, and which could not exist 
for a day without it, involve no moral ^\Tong ? 

Essential., as distinguished from Incidentcd 'Wrongs. — 
In discussing the moral character of this institution, I 
have spoken only of those evils which seem inseparable 
from any system of complete slavery. Of those wrongs 
which are incidentcd to the system, as it exists in this or 
in other countries, and which constitute the worst features, 
in many respects, of such a system, — as, e. the separa- 
tion of fiimilies by sale, the disregard of the marriage tie, 
the nameless and shocking barbarities which are of too 
frequent occurrence wherever slavery exists, — I purposely 
forbear to speak in this connection. I can conceive of a 

11* 



126 DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



system of servitude that should dispense with the shame 
and guilt of these peculiar features, that should be free 
from the odium of such vices and barbarities ; but I can- 
not conceive of any form or system of complete slavery 
that shall be free from the wrongs which have been dis- 
cussed in the present section. Wherever there is owner- 
ship and property in man, and that entire control and 
disposal of his person, faculties, and services, which such 
ownership imjDlies, there are, and must be, and always will 
be, as the legitimate and inevitable consequence, the 
wrongs of which I have spoken, viz., the violation of the 
natural rights of man, by reducing him from the condition 
of a person to the condition of a thing; by subjecting him 
to the irresponsible, lawless will of a master, with the 
imminent danger that that power will be abused, and with 
no protection against such abuse, nor redress from any 
wrong or outrage that may be inflicted; and, finally, by 
shutting him up in more or less complete ignorance and 
darkness — depriving him of that mental and moral culture 
which is his right. And, in view of these necessary and 
essential features of any and all systems of complete 
slavery, I cannot but pronounce any and every such 
system a grievous wrong in morals. 



§ III. — Effect of Slavery on the National Morals and the 
National Wealth. 

In order to a fair and just appreciation of the real 
character of any system, we must observe its effects, its 
practical working, and the consequences that actually flow 
from it. It is not enough to reason a priori as to what 
the moral character of slavery must be. It is necessary to 
verify such reasonings by actual observation. If the effects 
are disastrous, the system itself cannot be right. The 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 127 

tree must be judged by its fruits. There are two points 
of view from which the system now under consideration 
may well be regarded in its actual working, viz., its effect 
on the morals, and on the financial prosperity, of the 
state. 

I. On Morals, — There can be little doubt that the 
arrangement which places one man, or a considerable 
number of men, at the entire disposal and control of 
another, subject to his absolute and irresponsible will and 
power, is a system of things not the most favorable to 
moral excellence, whether of the master or the servant. 
The exercise of such authority must, in the nature of the 
case, tend to foster a spirit of pride and arrogance — to 
make a man overbearing and haughty in temper, quick 
and irascible, impatient of restraint and contradiction. 
The passions of our nature, the animal propensities, ever 
ready to assume the mastery, and requiring to be kept 
in check with firm hand, finding now no barriers to their 
indulgence but those which are self-imposed, will be likely 
to break over Ihose feeble barriers, and acquire unre- 
strained course and dominion. The tendency of the 
system to these results in morals, so far as the master is 
concerned, is inevitable. Many and honorable exceptions 
there will be ; but the tendeyicy is still the same. It must 
be so while human nature is what it is. The temptation 
to abuse of power over those who cannot or dare not 
resist, — to undue severity of punishment, where the pas- 
sions of the master are roused, and there is none to say 
what doest thou, — to the gratification of the baser appe- 
tites in their various forms, — must be too great for ordi- 
nary and unaided human virtue. The tendency of such a 
system must ever be, not to progressive refinement and 
moral culture, but to barbarism. We should expect to 
find in connection with such a civil polity, a state of 



128 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



society and of morals somewhat j^eculiar, — acts of vio- 
lence and barbarity not infrequent, the street affray, the 
duel, the murderous assault, the unrestrained indulgence 
of the animal appetites. This it would be reasonable to 
ex23ect ; and this, unless all history is false, we do find, the 
world over, to be the general state and tendency of things 
where the system of slavery prevails. 

Effect on the Slave. — Nor is the effect on the morals of 
the slave more favorable ; on the contrary, it is even more 
disastrous. In proportion as the feeling of self-respect and 
self-dependence is taken away, and a man is taught to 
look upon himself as merely the tool in the hands of 
another, the instrument of another's will and pleasure, 
without responsibility of his own, just in that proportion 
the foundation of moral character is undermined. I^oth- 
ing can be more demoralizing in its effect upon the char- 
acter. Strip a man of all that constitutes manhood, — of 
all self-reliance and self-respect, of all the rights which 
nature has conferred upon him, and all the faculties with 
which the Creator has endowed him ; take away from him 
all control and disposal of himself, all ownership of him- 
self, — and all that can stimulate to activity, and incite to 
noble attainment and excellence, is gone at once. He 
sinks down to the level of the brute. What inducement 
is there for him to hope or strive for anything other or 
better than his present lot, and the enjoyment which the 
moment may bring with it ? He becomes, as a matter of 
course, improvident and reckless, content with the gratifi- 
cation, so far as may be, of his merely animal appetites ; 
indolent — for why should he be otherwise? deceptive and 
dishonest — for what motive has he to honesty? governed 
only by fear of the lash, with little thought of anything 
future, with little knowledge of that hereafter whence are 
derived the most powerful motives to present virtue. His 



DUTIES PERTAINIjSTG TO LIBERTY. 129 



mind shrouded in ignorance, his moral nature almost 
wholly uncultivated, his condition is little above that of 
the beast with whom he toils, and with whoin he perishes. 

Exceptions there may be, many and remarkable, to this 
general law. As in the case of the master, so in the case 
of the slave ; some will rise above the influences that sur- 
round and drag them down, and, in spite of all these 
depressing and demoralizing influences, will maintain their 
integrity. But such is not the rule, such is not the ten- 
dency of the system. No one who has either reflected on 
the matter, or observed the actual working of the system, 
can honestly suppose that it is. It is a notorious fact, that, 
as a general rule, wherever this system exists, the slave 
is indolent, deceitful, dishonest, improvident, — not to be 
trusted away from the eye of his master. Can that be a 
right system which produces such effects on those whom 
it most directly concerns ? 

II. Effect on the National Wealth. — It can hardly ad- 
mit of question that slavery tends greatly to impoverish 
a country. It exhausts the resources of the most fertile 
soil, and seeks ever new and unexhausted territories on 
which to plant itself From these, again, it must in turn 
migrate, if it would thrive. We have only to compare 
the slave and the free state, lying side by side, in our 
own country, alike in climate, soil, and productions, — the 
same mountains and rivers and skies common to both, — 
the same constitution encircling, and the same- flag float- 
ing over them; — we have but to mark the thrift and 
enterprise and accumulating capital of the one, and the 
comparative stagnation and poverty of the other, — the 
crowded streets, the busy industry, the numerous pop- 
ulation of the one, the sparsely settled condition and 
neglected aspect of the other, — to be satisfied on which 



IBO DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



side of the dividing line that separates freedom from ser- 
vitude the som-ces of j^rosperity lie. 

Nor is it difficult to perceive why it should be so. In 
the states where servitude is the established institution 
and order of things, labor becomes disgraceful; in the 
free state, industry and honest toil are honored and 
rewarded; and all classes of citizens labor, each in his 
own way and at his own employment. The diiference is 
that which always holds, by the laws of nature, between 
idleness and industry, — viz., j)overty and wealth. It is 
an essential principle, moreover, in political economy, that 
in order to the most efficient and productive labor, a man 
must have some personal interest in that on which he 
labors, else the highest incentive to effi^rt will be want- 
ing. This is precisely what is and must be ever wanting 
in any system of involuntary servitude. He who labors 
not for himself, but for another, and whose chief motive 
to effi^rt is the fear of the lash rather than any hope of 
reward, is not likely to be the most industrious or profit- 
able of servants. The system which depends on such 
labor, violates the fundamental laws of nature, and cannot 
prosper. 

§ IV. — Arguments in Favor of Slavery. 

It is not enouo'h, in the consideration of a matter so 
important as the present, in its bearings on the happiness 
and welfare of the race, to look merely at one side of the 
question, without inquiring what may be said on the other. 
The result of our inquiries thus far has been adverse to 
the system in question : it is no more than fair to consider 
the arguments in favor of the system. 

Defended on the ground of Family Government. — 
Some writers place the matter on the ground of family 



DUTIES PERTAmiNG TO LIBERTY. 131 

government, and defend it on that ground as right and to 
be justified, when the authority thus exercised seeks, as in 
the government of the family, the best good of the gov- 
erned, and is administered solely with a view to that end. 

To this it may be replied, in the first place, that the 
supposition now made by no means holds good of the sys- 
tem as a whole. It is not true that slavery, as it actually 
exists in the world, or ever has existed in its true and 
complete form, is a system the real design and aim of 
which is the welfare and highest good of the slave. Hu- 
mane and pious masters there doubtless are, and have 
been in all periods of the world's history, who have sought 
to make their power consistent, so far as possible, with 
the welfare of their slaves. They have not been unmind- 
ful of the good of the governed. But that, even in such 
cases, the welfare of the slave has been the direct aim and 
end of the institution, the thing for lokich it exists, rather 
than merely an hicidental benefit secured in spite of all 
the opposite tendencies and natural results of the system, 
no one, I think, can intelligently maintain ; much less that 
such is the real end and object of the system as a whole. 
Everybody knows that the end aimed at in the institution 
of slavery is not the good of the slave himself, but the 
gain of the master; and to assert the contrary is simply 
absurd. If any one were to assert that the efforts now 
making, by government, and individuals, to introduce and 
domesticate the camel in this country, were prompted by 
a simple and pure regard to the comfort and happiness of 
that valuable animal, we should esteem him as a person 
of humane disposition, but somewhat weak in understand- 
ing. Were we to cite, in confirmation of this theory, the 
laws which prohibit cruelty to animals, and the many in- 
stances in which camels have been well treated, we should, 
while gratified to learn these facts, hardly regard them as 



132 DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



establishing the point in question. That the system of 
involuntary servitude, which reduces man from the condi- 
tion of a person to that of a thing, makes him a mere piece 
of property, like a horse or a dog, takes away from him all 
power of self-direction, and makes him subject to the 
lawless and irresponsible will of a master — that this 
system, so repugnant to all natural ideas of right and 
justice, has any claim to be regarded as an eleemosynary 
institution^ designed to promote the highest good of the 
slave, remains to be proved. 

♦ 

Further Reply. — The argument rests, moreover, on the 
assumption that the slave is not capable of self-govern- 
ment, — which has never been shown to be true, but 
which, on the contrary, facts seem to contradict, — and 
that, consequently, inasmuch as he is not capable of own- 
ing, directing, and governing himself, the master has the 
right of owning and governing him, — which by no means 
follows. Is the slave unfit to be his own master? And, 
even if he is, does that give me as an individual the 
right to govern him? How came he into that relation 
to me, and I to him, that places him in my power, and 
gives me the authority to govern him? Have I really 
any right to sustain that relation to any of my fellow- 
beings ? Granted : that this man, left to himself, might 
not order his affairs so wisely and so well as I could order 
them for him — what then? Does it follow that I have 
the right to take out of his hands the ownership and con- 
trol of himself, and make him my property? 

Argument from Inferiority. — - The ground on which 
the defence of the system is more frequently placed, is 
that the negro is by nature inferior to the white race. 
His proper position in the scale of being, that for which 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 133 

nature evidently intended him, is the condition of servi- 
tude. We are depriving him, therefore, of no right when 
v^^e subject him to bondage. This argument is invalid in 
its premises, and false in its conclusion. It is not true 
that the negro is by naUire — whatever he may be by the 
circumstances of his position — essentially inferior to the 
white race. Facts prove the contrary. Placed under 
influences equally favorable for mental and moral devel- 
opment, with equal advantages and equal inducements, 
he has uniformly shown himself capable of equal attain- 
ments. He is endowed by nature with the same mental 
and moral faculties that belong to other men ; and those 
faculties are susceptible of the same culture. He has the 
same affections and passions with other men ; the same 
sense of right and justice, the same moral nature. The 
very laws which forbid the teaching of slaves to read and 
write, are of themselves a sufficient contradiction of the 
theory of his native inferiority. 

But, even if it were as now assumed, could it be shown 
that the negro is inferior by nature to the Caucasian race, 
it is by no means a legitimate conclusion that the Cau- 
casian is for that reason entitled to reduce the former to 
bondage. The very fact of inferiority, if it be a fact, con- 
stitutes a reason, not for reducing him to a still deeper and 
more deplorable degradation, but for elevating him to a 
higher and better condition. It is a circumstance which 
calls not for severe measures, and the wresting from him 
in his feebleness and ignorance what light and what 
strength he has, but rather for compassion and gentleness ; 
it is a reason, not for making him my property, and de- 
priving him of all ownership and control of himself, not 
for making him a mere chattel, a thing to be used and 
abused at my pleasure, but rather for instructing and ele- 
vating him to something higher and better than he is. 

12 



134 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



Besides, the question naturally arises, Sow came he to 
he thus inferior? Viewed-' in its present condition, under 
all the depressing influences of a state of hopeless servi- 
tude, the slave population may well be supposed inferior 
in many respects, both mentally and morally, to the dom- 
inant white race. But how came it to be so ? Is it cause, 
or consequence ? Does the condition of servitude result 
from the perceived inferiority, or the perceived inferiority 
from the condition of servitude ? If by force or fraud I 
succeed in catching a man and putting out his eyes, that 
surely will not entitle me to make him my slave after that, 
because he is blind ! The question would be asked, What 
occasioned that blindness ? 

Argument from Scripture. — The position which the 
advocates of slavery often assume, and of late more fre- 
quently than formerly, is that the Bible recognizes and 
sustains slavery. If this be so, it is certainly a strong pre- 
sumption in its favor, and will go far to weaken and impair, 
if not altogether to set aside, many of the arguments 
already presented. It requires, therefore, a careful and 
candid consideration. 

That slavery is recogyiized in the Scriptures, both of the 
Old and New Testament, is evident ; that it is not ex- 
pressly and directly condemned or prohibited in either, may 
also be admitted ; that it \^ justified^ either by the spirit, or 
precepts, of the sacred writings, is not true ; on the con- 
trary, it is emphatically and diametrically opposed to both. 

Under the Jewish economy, slavery, in a modified form, 
existed, and was sufiered to exist — was tolerated, not jus- 
tified. It stood on the same ground with polygamy, and 
similar kindred vices. Many things were suflered then to 
exist which a true and strict morality could by no means 
sanction, and which are nowhere sanctioned, but, on the 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



135 



contrary, condemned by the whole spuit of Christianity. 
Such, for example, was the ancient Jewish law and custom 
of divorce for the slightest offences, and even for no offence, 
but the caprice of the husband. Such the law and custom 
of polygamy. On the same ground we may also place the 
institution of slavery, so far as it then existed. 

Jewish and Modern Slavery unlike. — It must be remem- 
bered, however, that the system of servitude known and 
practised under the Jewish economy, was in many respects 
essentially different from the slavery of modern times. It 
" was another and a very different thing. The difference 
was as great, as that between an absolute, and a constitu- 
tional and limited monarchy. The power of the Jewish 
master over his servant was closely and strictly limited. 
The servant was not, in the modern sense, a slave — a mere 
piece of property, a thing. He w^as still a man. He had 
his rights^ and they were carefully guarded and secured by 
law. The master was not, either in theory, or practically, 
irresponsible. In purchasing a servant, he purchased not 
so much the man himself as the right to the labor and ser- 
vices of the man, and even that under certain important 
restrictions. The purchase was to be made, in the first 
place, of some foreign nation. If the servant found his 
situation disagreeable, and effected his escape, he was not 
to be delivered up to his master (Deut. xxiii. 15, 16) ; nor 
was the servitude in any case to be perpetual. Every 
fiftieth year witnessed the release of every servant from 
bondage throughout the land. Religious rights were 
especially guaranteed to the servant. He was to have full 
opportunity for religious instruction and worship. If the 
master maimed or otherwise abused him, he was to be set 
free (Ex. xxi. 26, 27) ; if the slave were killed while 
under the master's correction, the master was to be pun- 
ished (Ex. xxi. 20). 



136 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



K'ow, it is evident that these are very im^^ortant restric- 
tions. A system of servitude thus modified and limited, 
would be a very different institution from any known as 
modern slavery. When these limitations and restrictions 
shall have been adoj^ted into the slave-codes of those 
states where men are now held in bondage ; when it shall 
be unlaiofid to deliver to his master a slave that has 
escaped ; when every fiftieth year shall set free all that are 
in bondage ; when every slave that receives personal injury, 
to the loss of an eye or a tooth even, by severity of treat- 
ment, shall go free for his eye's or tooth's sake; when the" 
death of the slave under the hand of his master shall 
subject the master to severe and certain punishment ; 
v/hen the full privileges of mental and religious instruction 
shall be secured to the slave, — then, and not till then, it 
will be time enough to plead the system of Jewish servi- 
tude as a precedent for modern slavery. Such restrictions, 
it is perfectly obvious, are quite incompatible with the sys- 
tem as it exists among us ; they would bring it to a speedy 
end. 

Greeh and Roman Slavery. — But the slavery which is 
recognized in the New Testament, it is said, was much 
worse than that of the Jewish state. In the Grecian and 
Roman states the master's power over the slave was un- 
restricted, amounting even to the power of life and death. 
It was to slavery in this its severer and more complete 
form, that the New Testament writers had reference. This 
is true. But do these writers justify such a system, or 
merely recognize its existence ? Is it approved, or merely 
tolerated ? Is it anywhere defended, and placed on the 
high ground of moral right, or merely recognized as an 
existing civil institution ? These are important questions. 
It is for those who undertake to defend slavery from the 
Bible, to show that the sacred writers justify the system of 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



lOT 



servitude then in vogue ; tliat they recognize not merely its 
existence, but its moral rightness. This cannot be shown. 
So far from aj^proving and justifying anything of the kind, 
the whole tenor of the sacred writings, and especially of 
the Kew Testament, is directly opposed to all such systems, 
law^s, and practices. 

The spirit of the divine precepts, the sum and substance 
of that law which is to govern our conduct, is contained 
in that universal rule, "All things whatsoever ye- would 
that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them." 
Our regard for the lights and hapj^iness of others is to be 
measured by our regard for our own welfare, and our own 
rights. Is such a rule compatible with the existence of 
such a system of slavery as prevailed in Greece and Rome, 
or as still prevails among modern nations ? Is it not, on 
the contrary, utterly subversive of any and every such 
system ? Were this one precept carried out, slavery, in 
whatever form, and whatever land, would as surely and as 
si3eedily terminate, as night ceases when day begins. 

Duties of Masters and Servants ^jrescrihed. — But, it is 
said, the New Testament prescribes the duties of master 
and servant, and so tacitly gives consent to the system. It 
is true, the gospel enjoins upon the master the duty of 
forbearance, and kindness, and of rendering to the servant 
that which was just and due, and upon the servant the 
duty of obedience to the master. But these duties are 
enjoined, not on the ground of the rigJitfidness of the rela- 
tion, but simply as that which, under all the circumstances, 
was the best course to pursue, and would be most pleasing 
in the sight of God. Precisely in the same way, and on 
the same principle, the disciples of the Christian faith were 
advised to submit to the arbitrary and tyrannical decrees 
and irresponsible power of tyrants, such an one as Nero 
even, not because such exercise of tyrannical power was 

12# 



138 



DUTIES PEETAINIXG TO LIBERTY. 



a thing to be justified, a right thing, but because to sub- 
mit and to suffer wrong was, under all the circumstances, 
better — better for them, situated as they were — than to 
resist. " Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." 
Does this justify Nero ? On the same principle, the Chris- 
tian disciple was bidden to tm-n the other cheek to the 
hand that had already smitten, since it was better, on the 
whole, — better at least for him, as a Christian, — to suffer 
outrage patiently than to take his defence into his own 
hands. Does this justify acts of personal assault and vio- 
lence ? They who defend slavery on this ground, must, on 
the same principle, if they reason consistently, defend any 
system of civil oppression and tyranny, however arbitrary 
and unjust, and any personal violence inflicted by lawless 
and angry men upon the victims of their ferocity. 

In the well-expressed language of an able writer and 
moralist, Dr. Hickok: "This obedience was by no 
means required on the ground that slavery was right- 
eous, and- the master's authority morally valid. It would 
be more prudent for the slave to obey, and tend most 
to cultivate his piety. He was required to be obedient 
' not only to the good and gentle, but also to the frow- 
ard;' even obedient where cruelty and wickedness led. 
to the 'buffeting' of the slave 'for doing well.' It was 
expedient to obey; just as, when you cannot escape from 
a tiger, it is expedient not to provoke him. It by no 
means justifies the usurped authority. It was better for 
the slave to obey ; and especially it would serve to aug- 
ment piety, and recommend the religion of Him, who in 
his humiliation was smitten and ' opened not his mouth.' " 

Why not directly forbidden. -—Bwt why, it may be 
asked, was not the system directly forbidden, or at least 
declared to be unjust and morally wrong, if such is indeed 
its true character? I reply, it is really forbidden by the 



DUTIES PEKTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



139 



spirit and the precepts of Christianity — really, though 
not directly and explicitly. The rule to do unto others 
whatsoever we would that they should do unto us, as really 
forbids that involuntary servitude which exacts of a fellow- 
being unrequited service, and robs him of all his dearest 
rights, as if the practice of such a wrong were mentioned 
by name, and specially prohibited. A reason doubtless ex- 
isted for not thus designating it in so many words. It was 
a social evil, incorporated into the whole fabric of civil 
society and government. To have singled out the evil, 
and by direct precept to have prohibited it, would have 
been, perhaps, neither the wisest nor the surest mode of re- 
dress. It would have been a direct interference of Chris- 
tianity with civil government. In the language of Dr. 
Wayland : " If it had forbidden the evil, instead of subvert- 
ing the principle, — if it had proclaimed the unlawfulness of 
slavery, and taught slaves to resist the oppression of their 
masters, — it would instantly have arrayed the two parties 
in deadly hostility, throughout the civilized world. Its an- 
nouncement would have been the signal of servile war; 
and the very name of the Christian religion would have 
been forgotten amidst the agitations of universal blood- 
shed. The fact, under these circumstances, that the gospel 
does not forbid slavery, affords no reason to suppose that 
it does not mean to prohibit it ; much less does it afford 
ground for belief that Jesus Christ intended to cmtlior- 
ize it." 

The Mode of Redress. — We have been occupied in the 
preceding pages with the discussion of the moral character 
of this institution of slavery. It is no part of the business 
of the moralist, strictly speaking, to point out the best 
methods of redressing the wrongs and evils of society. 
This it is for others to do. One thing, however, I may 
properly say in this connection. Whatever measures arc 



140 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO LIBERTY. 



adopted, looking to this end, must necessarily be gradual 
In their 023eration, in order wisely and well to accomplish 
their purpose. The social fabric is not to be rudely shaken, 
nor its w^hole structure radically changed in a day. Time 
is requisite, and the slow growth of principle. Much is to 
be hoped from the progress of society, and the gradual prev- 
alence of more enlightened views, and of a loftier and purer 
morality. In proportion as society advances, and Christian- 
ity obtains a firmer hold on the mind and heart of the race, 
this system, so utterly at variance with all just notions of 
right and duty, and so repugnant to the feelings of com- 
mon humanity, must and will gradually disappear, as the 
shadows from the mountain side, and the mists fr'om the 
bosom of the lake, when the sun mounts the heavens in 
his strength. 

Progress of European Society. — If we look at the social 
organization of the European nations, w^e find them, in the 
course of centuries, passing through a series of changes, 
from the state of absolute servitude of the laboring classes, 
to that of more or less perfect equality and fi-eedom. For 
some two centuries or more after the Norman conquest, 
the greater portion of the cultivators of the soil in Eng- 
land wei'e serfs, or villei?is, as they were then termed, 
bound to the soil, and owing service to the proprietor 
thereof.. The peasant belonged to the soil, and, with all 
his family and descendants, from generation to genera- 
tion, was at the disposal of the lord of the manor. These 
unlimited labor-rents were gradually, during the succeed- 
ing centuries, commuted into more definite services, and 
the peasant acquired legal right, or copyhold, as it was 
termed, to the lands which he cultivated. It is only about 
two hundred years since the cultivator of the soil in Eng- 
land ceased to be held in personal thraldom. 

In many jjavts of Germany, serfdom still exists j in others, 



DUTIES PERTAIisING TO LIBERTY. 141 



the peasant is no longer attached to the soil, but, instead of 
Tinlimited service, j^ays his landlord some definite amount 
of labor as land-rent ; in other cases, this is commuted for 
rent in grain or money, and the servitude becomes almost 
nominal. 

In Russia, the serf was little better than a slave, except 
that his service was limited. He was bound to work for the 
owner of the soil a certain number of days in the week, 
laboring for the rest of the time, for his own subsistence, 
on lauds allotted for the purpose. 'Nor Avas it until the 
accession of the present government that this system was 
abolished. 

Sentiment of Paley. — Soon after the close of the strug- 
gle by which the American Colonies became independent 
of England, Archdeacon Paley, referring to the system of 
slavery, and to the part which the English government 
had taken in upholding it, made use of the following lan- 
guage, in his work on Moral Philosophy : " The great rev- 
olution which has taken place in the Western world may 
probably conduce (and who knows but that it was de- 
signed) to accelerate the fall of this abominable tyranny; 
and now that this contest, and the passions which attended 
it, are no more, there may succeed perhaps a season for 
reflecting, whether a legislature which had so long lent its 
assistance to the support of an institution replete with 
human misery, was fit to be trusted with an empire the 
most extensive that ever obtained in any age or quarter of 
the world." Could this excellent moralist, after the lapse 
of three quarters of a century, be permitted to look upon 
this Western world as it now is, and behold the present 
greatness and prosperity of the country that was then just 
commencing its career, as he beheld with astonishment 
this dark blot still upon our escutcheon, would he not, and 
with justice, repeat, with reference to our own nation, the 



142 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



question then so forcibly put, Avitli reference to the British 
government, "whether a legislature that had so long lent 
its assistance to the support of an institution replete with 
human misery, was fit to be trusted with an empire " so 
extensive and powerful ? 



CHAPTER III. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



Man has not only the right to life, and to liberty, but 
also to property^ or the j^ossession and enjoyment of what- 
ever he may, by his own industry or good fortune, or the 
gift of others, have honestly acquired. Prominent among the 
duties, therefore, which we owe to our fellow-men, — that 
is, to society, — are the duties which have respect to prop- 
erty. The jDrincipal topics to be considered are the right 
of property, the uses of such an institution, the modes in 
which it may be acquired, the different kinds of property, 
crimes against property, and the various limitations of the 
right of property. 

§ L Foundation of the Right of Property. 

Labor and not Law, — Whatever man produces as the 
result of his own skill and labor, is properly his, and no 
one else has the right to take it from him. It is his prop- 
erty by a natural right. There is need of no law, or social 
organization and compact, in order to this. His title to 
use, possess, and enjoy what he has himself produced, by 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 143 

virtue of Km own powers and liis own industry, is just as 
good before as after, without as witli, any sucK legislation 
or compact. Law and social organization, with its appli- 
ances, may confirm and protect him in his right, but do not 
create it. 

Different Theories. — According to the view now taken, 
it is the labor expended in originally acquiring, or subse- 
quently improving any object of possession, that consti- 
tutes the right of property in the same. In the case of 
land, the labor of cultivation renders it more valuable, and 
so'confers the right of continued possession on him who 
has created that value. This is the view maintained by 
Locke, and many others. 

Another view of the matter is, that, inasmuch as God, 
the Creator of all things, provided the gifts of nature for 
the use of all his creatures, therefore every one has a right 
originally to all he needs. In this manner, land, as well as 
other things, comes to be the property of the individual. 
This is a rule of somewhat indefinite application ; and if 
carried out, would lead, perhaps, to the disorganization of 
society as at present constituted. As regards strictly the 
gifts of nature, it is doubtless true that they were intended 
for all. Light, air, rain, sunshine, and the like, are free to all, 
and in their nature cannot, under ordinary circumstances, 
be appropriated. But it is otherwise with that on which, 
by my toil or skill, I have confen-ed a value. Water is 
free to all ; but not the water of the well that I have dug 
for my own convenience. Fire is a commodity which na- 
ture places within the reach of all ; but not the fire which 
my labor has kindled for ray own use. So land may orig- 
inally have been free to the first comer ; but when he has 
once taken possession, and expended labor and created 
value, it is not free to others, so long as he chooses to 
occupy it. 



144 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 

JPaleifs Vieio. — Paley makes the foundation of joroperty 
to be the law of the land, as carrying out the will and in- 
tention of the Creator. "It is the intention of God that 
the produce of the earth be applied to the use of man. 
This intention cannot be fulfilled without establishing 
property. It is consistent, therefore, with his will that 
property be established. The land cannot be divided into 
separate property without leaving it to the law of the 
country to regulate that division. It is consistent, there- 
fore^ with the same will that law should regulate the divis- 
ion ; and, consequently, ' consistent with the will of God,' 
or ' right,' that I should possess that share which these 
regulations assign me." 

This resolves all right into the will of God, — which is 
Paley's theory of right, — and it also supposes that the 
laws of the land are in all cases an expression of that will, 
— which is by no means certain. ]^ow, it is perfectly clear 
that law regulates the conveyance of j^roperty, defines 
what is and what is not property, maintains and secures 
to the rightful owner that which properly belongs to him. 
It maintains and defends, but it does not create the right 
to own. It regulates rather than originates that right. 

Constitution of the Mind. — The right, in itself consid- 
ered, or in the abstract, is found, if I mistake not, in the 
nature and constitution of the human mind, — just as 
society itself originates from that same nature and consti- 
tution. This, indeed, reduces itself ultimately into the 
divine will; inasmuch as the nature and constitution of 
men are from God, and it was for him to form us with 
what nature, and endow us with what propensities, he 
joleased. Still, we need go no further than to the constitu- 
tion of human nature to discover the origin of the princi- 
ple in question. The desire to possess, to appropriate, lies 
among the native and implanted principles of the mind. 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 145 

It shows itself in earliest life. The child appropriates to 
himself the toys that are given him, and feels injured if 
they are taken from him by another. The structm*e of 
language shows that this is a universal principle. Where- 
ever we find in human speech the use of possessive pro- 
nouns, or other forms of language fulfilling that ofiice, we 
find the expression of this principle. Men, universally, 
feel that there is a right violated, a wrong done, in taking 
by violence or fraud that which has been appropriated by 
another. Hence, they demand not mere restitution, but 
the punishment of the offender. 

But while we seek in the structure of the mind itself 
the origin and foundation of the right of property in gen- 
eral — of the right to appropriate, in itself considered — 
the condition on which that right depends — i. the 
right to apj)ropriate this or that thing, in any given case — 
is the circumstance already pointed out : namely, that 
labor has been originally bestowed in the acquisition of 
these things, and value created as the result of that labor, 
to which value the laborer is justly entitled, as something- 
he has himself produced. 

Objection. — If it be said that we possess many things, 
which we call property, on which we have not bestowed 
labor, — many values which we have not ourselves created, 
as, for example, property inherited or bequeathed, or the 
gifts of friendship, — I reply, these values were originally 
acquired or created by labor ; they became the proj^erty 
of the original owner in that way ; and the right of pos- 
session has been conferred by him on the present posses- 
sor. 

The only exception to this rule, which occurs to my 
mind, is the accident of discovery : as when, walking by 
the bank of a stream, I find a piece of gold ore, or a pearl, 
among its sands. In this case, there is certainly no labor 

13 



146 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



.bestowed on the acquisition further than that of picking 
up and appropriating what I have discovered. The act of 
appropriation constitutes my right in this case, and holds 
good as against others, on the ground that no one else has 
bestowed labor on the things in question, and therefore 
no one else has any claim to them. Were it otherwise, — 
were the treasure found not a natural product, but the 
result of human labor, as, e. g.^ a bracelet of pearls, or a 
purse of gold coined for use, — my discovery of the arti- 
cle would not constitute a right of possession against the 
claim of the real owner. Even in the case supposed, the 
owner of the soil in which the gold ore or the jewels is 
found, may present a counter claim, on the ground that, in 
purchasing the soil, he purchased whatever value it may 
produce or contain. The soil itself is his property, and no 
one else has a right to take away from it any of its values. 

In like manner, were a meteorite to fall from the sky 
upon my land, my right to that value would depend not 
merely, or so much, upon the accident of discovery, as 
upon my previous right to the premises, — a right pur- 
chased by labor in some form. 

View of WhcUely. — Archbishop Whately, in his Logic, 
has made use of this very illustration to prove the oppo- 
site doctrine, viz., that the right of property does not 
depend, ultimately, on labor. The labor expended in the 
production of values is, according to him, not essential to 
the existence of value and to property in the same, but is 
merely accidental^ — a circumstance that, indeed, usually, 
but not always or necessarily, accompanies the possession 
of wealth. The meteorite that falls in my yard has a 
value quite independent of human labor. 

It seems to me, however, that in this instance, Whately, 
while attempting to correct a popular fallacy, as he regards 
it, has himself fallen into a still more serious error. If we 



DUTIES PERTAIXIXG TO PROPERTY. 14T 



look at the real wealth of the world, tlie chief valnes that 
constitute the property of men, we certainly do find them 
to be, in great proportion, the result of human labor. The 
exceptions are so few and so slight, as compared with the 
whole amount, that they scarcely deserve to be taken into 
the account ; and instead of calling labor an accidental 
circumstance sometimes accompanying the possession of 
wealth, it were certainly much nearer the truth to call it 
the rule, and its exceptions the accident. 

Relo.tion of the Stater to private Property. — According 
to the view of some, the state is the supreme and ulti- 
mate proprietor and controller of all property. The natu- 
ral right must, in all cases, be held subordinate to the pub- 
lic authority. It is for the state to determine what shall 
be considered as the property of every citizen, and no 
man can hold any property, or call it his o^^m, except as 
under the law of the land. All individual right is thus 
resolved into state right. Such is the view maintained by 
some able writers, among others by Dr. Hickok. 

According to this view, the individual right to property 
is derived from the state. The natural right is no right 
imless the state sanctions it. This view seems to destroy 
individual rio-ht and libertv, — to merore the individual cit- 
izen, with all his rights and powers, in the state, — thus 
making the state all in all, as in that theory of political 
organization which Plato has left us. 

In reality, the state confers no right, as to property, 
which did not previously exist, and which would not have 
existed even had there been no such thing as a state. It 
confirms and establishes existing rights. It regulates the 
sale and transfer of property. It inquires into the validity 
of titles and the terms of contract, and takes care that 
those terms shall be fulfilled. The state is merely a social 
organization, contrived for the purpose of more effectually 



148 DUTIES PERTAIXIJ^G TO PROPERTY. 

securing and maintaining the rights and hberties of the 
whole body of individual citizens, — in other words, the 
public good. 

It has no power, except that of the individual arms that 
compose its aggregate strength; no rights or autliority, 
except such as may be conferred on it by the body politic. 
It owns, and can own, no property, except such as belongs 
to the citizens that constitute the state, either in their pri- 
vate, individual capacity, or as a public body. Whatever 
right or control of property the state has, it derived orig- 
inally from the people. 

In order to carry out the purposes for which the state is 
created, it must have control and disposal of so much of 
the public property as is necessary to the subsistence, de- 
fence, and well-being of the state ; must have power to 
lay out roads, levy taxes, etc. ; and, whenever, in pursu- 
ance of such objects, the public claim comes into conflict 
with individual claim, the latter must yield to the former, 
on the j^rinciple that the majority govern. When, for 
example, the land held by any citizen is needed for some 
public purpose, as a road, for instance, the state has the 
right to take it from him for that purpose ; but not without 
equivalent to the full value of the property taken. Other- 
wise, government becomes a despotism, and there is no 
longer security for individual right. 

§ II. — Advantages of the Institution of Propeett. 

Granting the right, which has been already discussed, 
the question may still arise, Of what use is the institution 
of property, or private possession ? Why may not society 
hold its goods in common, every man taking from the 
common stock that which he needs for his own present 
wants, and that only ? Why should one particular por- 



DUTIES PERTAI^TIiTG TO PROPERTY. 



149 



tion of the soil, for example, be set olf to my share, with 
its various products, and another to my neighbor ? What 
advantage results from such distribution ? 

Contributes to the Comfort and Happmess of Man. — 
That there are some disadvantages resulting from the dis^ 
tribution of property, cannot be denied. On the other 
hand, there are many and obvious advantages ; prominent 
among which must be reckoned the contribution thus 
made to the comfort and happiness of the race. Man is 
so constituted, as we have already seen, that he naturally 
desires to possess, and call his own, the objects that min- 
ister to his wants. He enjoys that which is his own and 
not another's. The waters from his own spring, the fruit 
from his own tree, that he has himself planted and nur- 
tured, the game which his own bow has brought down, 
or his own net captured, are sweeter and pleasanter than 
any other. 

He not only enjoys more what he thus possesses, but 
he possesses more in consequence of this arrangement. 
Were there no such thing as property, there would be no 
division of labor; every man would be obliged to hunt, 
and fish, and cook, for himself; to make his own clothes, 
and his own hut, or tent ; to provide for all his own wants. 
He would, in consequence, be very poorly provided. His 
implements of labor would be rude and clumsy ; his con- 
veniences of living, scanty. His time and attention being- 
divided among so many pursuits, he would acquire little 
skill in any of them. By devoting himself to some one 
art or profession, he becomes expert in that ; and by ex- 
changing the products of his skill and labor for other 
commodities, which in like manner have been produced 
by other laborers, the objects of enjoyment at his com- 
mand become greatly augmented. But this implies prop- 

13* 



150 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 

erty in what is thus produced, as otherwise there can be 
no right of exchange. 

Augments the Produce of the Earth. — It is a further 
advantage of the arrangement in question, that it greatly 
increases the products of the soil. In order to fertility, and 
the greatest productiveness of the earth, there must be la- 
bor and due cultivation. It produces little spontaneously. 
But where there is no property in the soil and its pro- 
ducts, where they are the common possession of all, where 
those who do not labor share equally with those who do, 
there is no incitement to labor — no inducement to put 
forth the exertion requisite to the proper cultivation of 
the soil. Tillage will inevitably be neglected, and the 
community will grow poor together, in proportion to that 
neglect. The products of the earth, as every one knows, 
are our chief source of national wealth — the foundation, 
in fact, on which other modes and sources of productive- 
ness must ultimately rest. 

The effect of leaving land and produce to be held in 
common, is seen in the neglect of agriculture by the 
North American native tribes — gathering a precarious 
and scanty support from an amount of territory sufficient, 
under proper management, to feed and clothe a hundred- 
fold greater population. It has always been observed, 
also, that where, among civilized communities, a piece of 
ground or other property has been held in common, it is of 
little use to any body. The fruit of a tree that grows by 
the roadside, and is regarded as public property, is seldom 
allowed to come to maturity. It would be much the same 
with all other products, in like circumstances. 

Promotes Civilization. — Without individual possession 
and right of property, there can be no division of labor, 
as I have said ; and without division of labor, there can 
be little progress in civilization. The advantages of civ- 



DUTIES PERTAI^ilKG TO PROPERTY. 



151 



ilized over savage life, depend in a great measure on those 
mechanic arts which supply the conveniences and luxuries 
of refined society, and which, in turn, can never be carried 
to any degree of perfection, where the workman is not 
permitted to derive the benefit of his own skill and in- 
dustry. 

The state of Europe during the middle ages, when des- 
potic power prevailed, when the laborer belonged to the 
soil that he cultivated, when the rights of private prop- 
erty were little regarded, and the wish of the strongest 
was law, as compared with the state of the same countries 
at the present day, when peace and constitutional law 
have given security to private rights, is a striking illus- 
tration of this truth. We see the same thing illustrated 
also in the present state of Syria, and other countries of 
Asia and the East. Despotic power prevails, and the la- 
borer is not sure that he shall be permitted to enjoy the 
product of his field. His grain, his flocks, his produce of 
whatever kind, are liable to be taken from him at any 
moment, by the rapacity and extortion of the lawless 
agents of government. There is, consequently, no in- 
ducement to labor, more than is necessary for absolute 
subsistence. Agriculture is neglected, and the mechanic 
arts. Society lingers in the twilight of barbarism. On 
the contrary, wherever, under free and well-ordered gov- 
ernments, we find the rights of private property respected 
and secured, there we find the arts and agriculture flour- 
ishing, property accumulating, society rapidly advancing. 

Inequality of Distribution. — But, while the institution 
of property has its obvious advantages, it is not to be de- 
nied that certain disadvantages, and perhaps abuses, flow 
from it. Il^'othing seems, at first sight, more unjust than 
the extreme inequality with which property, the actual 
wealth of the world, is distributed among men. One man 



152 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



has a fortune, another is reduced to beggary. One rolls 
in luxury, and counts his millions, and measures his estates 
by the square mile ; another toils for the merest pittance, 
and barely subsists on \he soil which he cultivates for 
another. 'Nor is it always the most industrious, the most 
talented, or the most deserving, that reap the largest re- 
ward. The weak, the profligate, the idle, the vicious, may 
be, and often are, the favorites of fortune, revelling upon 
the proceeds of the sweat and toil of honest industry. 

Paley's Illustration. — This anomaly has been very 
forcibly represented by Dr. Paley, in the well-known alle- 
gory of the flock of pigeons: "If you should see a flock 
of pigeons in a field of corn, and if (instead of each picking 
where and what it liked, taking just what it wanted, and 
no more) you should see ninety-nine of them gathering 
all they got into a heap; reserving nothing for themselves 
but the chafl" and the refuse ; keejDing this heap for one — 
that, the weakest, perhaps worst pigeon of the flock; sitting 
round and looking on all the winter, whilst this one was 
devouring, throwing about, and w^asting it; and if a pigeon 
more hardy and hungry than the rest, touched a grain of 
the hoard, all the others flying upon it, and tearing it to 
pieces; — if you should see this, you would see nothing 
more than what is every day practised and established 
among men. Among men you see the ninety-nine, toil- 
ing and scraping together a heap of superfluities for one 
(and this one, too, oftentimes the feeblest and worst of the 
whole set — a child, a woman, a madman, or a fool) ; getting 
nothing for themselves but the coarsest of the 'provision 
which their own industry produces ; looking quietly on 
while they see the fruits of all their labor spent or spoiled ; 
and if one of the number take or touch a particle of the 
lioard, the others joining against him, and hanging him 
for the theft." 



DUTIES PERTAIXIXG TO PROPERTY. 



153 



Fallacy of this Statement. — It is important to be borne 
in mind that, in tlie present constitution of things, all 
property represents, and is the product of labor, performed 
at some time, and by somebody. The labor expended 
in the product may not have been put forth by the pres- 
ent possessor of the product, but at some time long pre- 
vious, and by some one whom he has never seen. It may 
have come into his hands by inheritance from some re- 
mote ancestor. However that may be, it is none the less 
the product of labor. So far as other men are concerned, 
it is the same thing as if the present possessor had ac- 
quired it by his own industry and skill. So much indus- 
try, so much toil, so much skill, lie embodied and repre- 
sented in this wealth which is accumulated in the coffers 
of the present pro^^rietor. His lordly mansion, his noble 
acres, his fine grounds and estates, are the product for 
which a full price has been paid, in that which is the ulti- 
mate price of all requisitions, viz., human labor. 

The illustration of Paley overlooks this fact. The 
pigeon which he describes seated in the midst of the 
flock, enjoys the products of the labors of those around 
him, to which he has no right. It is not his labor; it is not 
his product. He has no claims to it ; it belongs to those 
who are engaged in heaping it together. But in the dis- 
tribution of property among men, it is not so ; the rich 
man has that only which he has acquired by his own toil 
and economy, or which has rightfully descended to him 
from those who in the first instance acquired it in this 
manner. He has a claim and a right to all that he calls 
his. The poor man, on the other hand, has equal claim 
and right to all that he produces, be it more or less ; and, 
so far from hanging him if he touches it, or preventing 
him from the full enjoyment of it, society protects him 
in that right. So far as designed to represent the une- 



154 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 

qual distribution of property, then, the illustration of Dr. 
Paley, while amusing and ingenious, is by no means a fair 
and correct representation of the case. The argument 
which it conveys is soi^histical. 

§ III. — Modes in which Property mat be Acquired. 

The First Oionershi}^. — The first ownership of all 
things hes with the Creator of all, and is his gift to his 
creatures. So far as I have need of these things, and 
no one else has, by any reason, a higher claim to them, 
I may regard that which I find ready at my hand, and 
adapted to my wants, as the gift of the Creator to me, 
his creature. That I need it, and can have it without 
interfering with the rights of others, in itself constitutes 
in some sort a title to the thing. Such is the case as 
regards the spontaneous productions of the earth, game 
running wild in the forest, unclaimed lands, etc. Such, 
in the primitive state of society, was the case with most 
of those values which were in that rude stage of civiliza- 
tion possessed. 

Acquisition by Effort. — But, aside from this primitive 
acquisition by gift froui the Creator, the chief mode in 
which property may be acquired is by labor. As society 
advances, and man's wants increase, he no longer depends 
on those spontaneous productions of the earth found ready 
at his hand, and which may be regarded as the direct gift 
of God to man. The cave which has hitherto sheltered 
him, is exchanged for a more comfortable abode ; the simple 
fruits that have satisfied his hunger, are replaced by food 
of greater variety and abundance ; the skins of animals, 
that constitute as yet his clothing, are laid aside for some 
more convenient apparel ; and these advances are all the 
product of labor. To obtain these better accommodations 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



155 



he fells the forest, he builds, he tills the ground, he plants, 
he weaves, he spins ; and what he thus -acquires as the 
result and reward of labor, becomes his own, because the 
labor with which it was procured was his own ; and no one 
has a right to take it from him without his consent, and 
without just compensation. 

There is, however, a limitation to be here considered. 
He who acquires property by labor is entitled to the pro- 
ceeds of that labor only, and not to the proceeds of those 
previous values on which that labor may be expended. If 
I cultivate land belonging to another, or make use of tools 
and implements which are the property of another, this 
land, these tools and implements, are already existing 
values, on which the labor of others has previously been 
bestowed ; and when I unite my labor with theirs, as I do 
in making use of these things, I am entitled manifestly not 
to the whole, but only to a share of the proceeds. It is 
right that he who has bestowed labor on the land, in 
acquiring possession of it, and preparing it for cultivation, 
and on the tools and implements which he has invented 
and manufactured, and which I have used, should receive 
the benefit of his labor, as well as I of mine. 

AcqidsitioJi by Exchange. — That which I have acquired, 
and which is rightfully my own, I may not choose to keep. 
It may be more in quantity than I need for my own use ; 
or I may prefer some other value in place of it. I may 
part with it, therefore, for something in return ; and this is 
exchange. This is still another mode of acquisition ; and 
what is thus acquired, becomes my property as really and 
rightfully as if my own labor had been expended originally 
and directly in its production. 

A great part of the actual possessions of any man in 
civilized society are thus acquired ; comparatively few of 



156 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



the things which he calls his own are the direct product 
of his own industry. For the most part, we neither build 
our own houses, nor make our own garments, nor prepare 
our own food, but employ the labor of others for these 
purposes. 

Acquisition by Gift and Inheritance. — Another mode of 
acquisition is by the conferring of value gratuitously, as 
when I receive a gift from a friend, or when property is left 
me by inheritance. The rightful owner of any possession 
may, if he chooses, part with the same w^ithout receiving 
an equivalent in return. It is at his disposal, and he may 
convey the right of ownership now vested in him to 
whomsoever he pleases. When this is done informally, it 
is called a gift. When property is conveyed by will, or by 
due forms of law, at the decease of the original owner, it is 
termed inheritance. 

Question as to Right of Possession. — Does mere pos- 
session, in any case, confer the right to possess ? Suppose 
I have, by dishonest means, obtained possession of valua- 
ble property ; su]3pose, moreover, that the rightful owners 
are all dead, and that no one has now any better claim 
than myself to this property — that is, no one has any claim 
at all ; — does my possession, the fact that it is now in my 
hands, entitle me to keej) possession of it ? Dr. Wayland 
answers yes ; I have no moral right to the property, but I 
have the right to exclude others from it, who have no 
better claim than I have. This may be ; and yet I may 
have no right to retain possession of it myself The state, 
in such a case, becomes the proper recipient. I may not be 
under obligation to give up the property to any individual 
claimant, but I may be under obligation to give it up to 
society for the benefit of the whole. The mere fact that 



DUTIES PEPvTAIXING TO PROPERTY. 



15T 



tiie property is iiovr in my hands gives me no right to 
retain possession, inasmuch as it came into my hands un- 
hiwfully. There may be cases where simple possession 
entitles the holder to retain ; as where no right of another 
is violated in the original acquisition ; where the object 
acquired is, previous to its acquisition, the property of no 
one individual, as in the case of fruits growing by the road- 
side, or nuts in the forest, or game on the prairie, or land 
lying unclaimed in a new and uninhabited territory. In 
such a case, simple possession holds good against all subse- 
quent occupancy by another. But such is not the case 
now supposed. 

The principal modes in which property may be acquired, 
are those now stated — viz., by the direct gift of the Crea- 
tor, by labor of acquisition and production, by exchange, 
by donation and inheritance. 

§ IT. — Different Kinds of Propektt. 

Personal and Heal. — It has become usual to divide 
property into two kinds or classes — personal, and real; 
the latter including possessions in land, houses, etc. — what- 
ever is in its nature a fixture, not easity moved ; the former 
including all other species of property, such as admits of 
transfer from place to place. That which we term re;d 
estate, was not probably, at first, recognized as property at 
all. but became so only as society and civilization pro- 
gressed. The cave that sheltered the wanderer, and the 
pasture that fed his flocks, were his only so long as he 
occupied them. After that, they were free to the next 
comer. 

History of Property. — The first objects of property 
were probably the fruits of the earth, the spontaneous pro- 

14 



158 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 

ducts of the soil, which became the property of the indi- 
vidual by the simple act of gathering and appropriation to 
his own use. The labor of acquiring these fruits might 
have been very slight; but it was sufficient to constitute a 
dilference between him who had, and him who had not, in 
this manner acquired possession. Soon the products of 
the chase would be added to the list of rightful posses- 
sions ; and these, as they would require more labor and 
skill in the acquisition, would for that reason belong, by a 
still clearer right, to the individual who had acquired 
them. 

In like manner, tools and implements for the chase, or 
for the gathering and preparing of the fruits of the earth, 
tents, weapons of protection, and whatever of the like sort 
was early found necessary to the comfort and subsistence 
of man, would come to be regarded as property. In the 
progress of time, flocks and herds of domestic animals 
would constitute a portion of the wealth of man. Not 
until the country became somewhat thickly inhabited, and 
man began to turn his attention to the cultivation of the 
soil, would land itself come to be regarded as property ; 
and then only as each occupant expended labor on the soil, 
and mingled his products with it, would he acquire a right 
of individual appropriation. 

Accordingly, among the earlier and less civilized nations, 
we find no trace of property in land. The North Amer- 
ican native tribes seem to have known nothing of it. The 
"Scythians, while they appropriated cattle and horses, left 
their land in common. When Caesar invaded Britain, he 
seems to have found no traces of property in land. This 
species of property came to be a permanent i:>ossession, 
probably, not until the organization of society, and of civil 
government, fixing by law the right of the individual to 



DUTIES PERTAII^IXG TO PEOPERTT. 159 



the soil he cultivated. Previously, it was property only by 
possession and actual occupancy. 

Property as Regulated hy Lav\ — Inasmuch as land is 
less obviously the property of an individual than are those 
possessions which he can carry with him from place to 
place, and as the right of ownership is, therefore, main- 
tained with more difficulty, this species of property is made 
more directly and peculiarly the object of legislation. The 
ancient law of England regards land as the chief part of 
property, all other things being treated as only ajDpendages 
to persons. Hence the distinctive terms, real property, 
and personal property. 

The cultivator and the proprietor of the soil are not 
always the same person, nor of the same class. In such a 
case the rights of each are determined by law — the culti- 
vator giving to the proj^rietor a certain share of the pro- 
ceeds, which is termed rent. This may be given in produce^ 
as in Asia, where the proprietor, usually the sovereign, 
receives one-fifth, commonly, of whatever is raised on the 
land ; or, it may be in labor, as in Russia and Germany, 
where the peasant pays his rent by working a definite 
portion of his time for the exclusive benefit of the land- 
lord. The cultivator is then termed a serf. In other 
countries of Europe one-half the produce of the land 
goes to the owner of the soil, one-half to the cultivator. 
In England, between the landlord and the cultivator, we 
find an intermediate class, termed farmers, who give to the • 
owner of the soil his rent, and to the laborer his wages, 
retaining what is left after these deductions as their own 
profit. 

Feudal System. — There prevailed for some centuries in 
Europe, a system of land tenure, according to which the 



160 DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



proprietor held himself bound to protect the laborer as 
against other j^ersons, and the laborer in turn was bound 
to render to his superior certain fixed and valuable ser- 
vices. The relation of the two was one of mutual depend- 
ence, the lord requiring the service of the vassal, and the 
latter the protection of the lord. On this condition the 
vassal held certain lands as, in a modified sense, his own — 
paying fixed dues to the lord, and yielding also personal 
service as a soldier in arms. The land thus held by the 
laborer was termed a Feud^ or Fee ; hence the expression, 
Feudal System. The land thus held was not the absolute 
property of the laborer, however, nor yet even of the lord ; 
but its ultimate ownership vested in the sovereign. The 
laborer who held no fees or feuds, was termed a Tillein^ 
and was little better than a serf. 



§ V. — Crimes against Property. 

There are three principal modes in which the right of 
property may be violated. One may take what belongs to 
another, clandestinely, without the owner's knowledge. 
This is theft. Or, he may take it by violence, as when a 
highwayman presents a pistol and demands money, or 
when a band of armed men storm a castle, or ravage a 
territory, and plunder its treasures. This is robhery. Or, 
yet again, the consent of the owner may be fraudulently 
obtained, by deceiving him as to the real nature, or the 
* market value, of the commodity offered. 

Theft. — To take the property of another without his 
knowledge, and full, free consent, with design to appropriate 
it to our own use, is a violation of the right of property, 
and is justly regarded as a crime. It matters little whether 
the amount thus clandestinely appropriated be large or 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 161 



small, whether it be of great or triilmg value, whether its 
loss will be seA^erelj felt by the owner or not ; in, any case 
it is a violation of right, and, as regards the moral character 
of the act, it is essentially one and the same. Even if it 
should so happen that the owner has no objection to the 
transfer, still, so long as we presume upon this willingness, 
without first obtaining his consent, we are guilty of theft. 

Mohhery. — In case of violence offered for the purpose 
of obtaining consent not otherwise given, the crime is ag- 
gravated. The double offence is committed, of violence 
to the person, and violation of the property. I have no 
right to threaten the life or personal safety of another ; no 
right to take his property ; still less a right to accomplish 
the latter object by means of the former. The offence is 
aggravated, and deserves, and is everywhere held to 
deserve, the severest punishment. To compel consent by 
means of violence, is a greater crime than to take the 
property by force, and without the semblance of consent. 

Cheating. — But it is not enough that consent be at- 
tained, and that it be freely given ; this may be, and still 
the right of property be violated. That consent must be 
honestly and not fi-audulently obtained, else the trans- 
action is criminal. The greater part of the crimes against 
property are of this nature. The number of burglars, 
thieves, highway robbers, is small, in comparison with the 
mmiber of those who, in business transactions, hesitate 
not to cheat and defraud their fellow-men. The latter are 
as really guilty of ciime, though not perhaps, in some 
respects, of so great a crime, as the former; nor is the one 
a more respectable and honorable mode of procedure 
than the other. The command, "Thou shalt not steal," 
is as really broken in the one case as the other. Nor has 

14* 



162 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 



he who cheats his fellow m a small way, and under cover 
of a business transaction, the same apology for his crime 
that the more daring offender may often urge. The man 
who breaks into my house, or who demands my purse on 
the highway, may be driven to his desperate course by want 
and absolute starvation. The man who, pretending fair 
and honorable commerce, cheats me out of a few pennies, 
can plead no such apology for his dishonesty and meanness. 

Modes of Cheating. — There are various modes in which 
this species of dishonesty may be practised. It may be 
done by presenting for sale goods that are damaged, or in 
some way inferior to what they seem and are taken to be, 
deficient in quality or in quantity, a poorer, article than we 
represent, and than we intend that the buyer shall suppose. 
This is as really a fraud as if we were slyly to abstract just 
so much in value from the pocket of the jDurchaser. 

Another mode is to mislead the buyer as to the market 
j^rice of the article sold. When a man devotes himself 
to the business of exchanges, he is understood to possess 
some skill in the matter of purchasing, and to receive a 
f'lir compensation for that skill, as well as for his time and 
trouble ; he is understood also to furnish goods at the 
ordinary market prices. If, now, his skill in any particu- 
lar instance fails him ; if he finds that he has purchased at 
a given j^rice what is not really worth so much ; or if, the 
article being good, the price falls while it is upon his 
hands, he has no right to remunerate himself at the ex- 
pense of his customers — no right to take advantage of 
their ignorance, and sell to them at a price beyond the 
real value, on the ground that it cost him at that rate. 
This is to deceive the customer, and, in reality, to defraud 
him. If the' trader is at liberty to reap the benefit of a 
rise of prices while the goods are in his possession, he is, 



DUTIES PERTAIXIXG TO PROPERTY. 163 



on the same principle, bound to give the buyer the benefit 
of an accidental decline of prices. If, on the other hand, 
he adopts the rule of selling as he bought, he is bound to 
apply it equally to both cases, and give the customer the 
benefit of a purchase below the present market price. 

It is always understood that the trader furnishes his 
goods at the ruling price in the market. He takes care 
to have this understood. His credit and success depend 
on it. Hence he is bound to fulfill an expectation in itself 
so reasonable and universal, and which he has himself 
contributed to form. This obligation is violated, not 
merely by assuring the customer that he can procure the 
article in question nowhere at a cheaper rate, — which, 
in the case supposed, would be a direct falsehood, — but 
equally by silence ; since where nothing is said, the buyer 
presumes, and has a right to presume, that he is giving 
only the ordinary market price. 

False Information. — Closely allied to this very com- 
mon species of dishonesty is another — the circulating false 
information respecting the value, quantity, or price of any 
kind of goods, with a view to effect the sale ; as, for ex- 
ample, when the stock broker, by false reports circulated 
on 'Change, seeks to raise or depress the price of stocks ; 
or when the speculator, monopolizing a given article, con- 
veys the impression of a scarcity, when in reality there 
is an abundance of that commodity. This latter method 
of procedure becomes the more culpable when it affects, 
not the luxuries and conveniences, but the very necessa- 
ries of life, as in the case of monopolies of flour and grain. 

Monopoly. — The question may here arise, whether, 
aside from any false impression thus conveyed of a scarcity 
which does not really exist, the monopolizing an article of 
trade for the purpose of raising the price, is in itself a 



164 DUTIES PERTAIXI^TG TO PROPEETY. 



species of dishonesty. Suppose a mercliant, for example, 
to purchase all the ivory, or all the indigo, or saltpetre 
in the market ; suppose him to extend his transactions in 
this line to all the commercial cities in the country, pur- 
chasing all that can be procured, wherever found; suppose 
him then to raise the price of the article, depending on 
the demand to ensure a sale at the advanced rate. Where, 
it may be asked, is the dishonesty of such a proceeding ? 
Everything is fair and oijen in the transaction. The mer- 
chant has simply to say, I hold in my jDOssession such and 
such goods, and you can have them if you like at such a 
price. It is true they have been often sold at a much 
lower price, but they are not now to be obtained except 
at the rate mentioned. Buy, or not, as you please. What 
is there of dishonesty in this ? 

I cannot see that there is, properly speaking, any dishon- 
esty or fraud in such a proceeding. It is not deception ; 
it is not cheating. The goods are offered at what is, for 
the time, the market value, — that is, they cannot, for the 
present, be obtained for less, in other markets. In a 
w^ord, the merchant in question has it in his power to fix 
the market value of the goods, and does so. This he cer- 
tainly has the right to do, in the case supposed. If the 
articles in question were necessaries of life, he would have 
no moral right to establish a monopoly, and then fix on 
them a price that should place them beyond the reach of 
all except the rich. But such is not the case supposed. 

But, while we may not class such a transaction with the 
various forms of dishonest dealings, it must be admitted 
that public sentiment, and the common sense of mankind, 
very generally disapprove of this method of procedure, 
as not altogether just and honorable. It is taking what 
seems to be an undue advantage of the community. The 
profession of the merchant is one that is supposed to be 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO PROPERTY. 165 

for the public good. He comes between the producer 
and the consumer, for the advantage of both. It is better 
for both that there should be a class of men who shall 
devote themselves to the business of exchanges. But 
when the merchant, taking advantage of his position, 
puts upon his goods such a price that the community 
is rather injured than benefited by his transactions, no 
reason can be shown why such a business or profession 
should exist. The public good requires that it should 
cease to be. 

Dishonesty of the JBuyer. — It is hardly necessary to 
remark that the same rule applies to the buyer as to the 
seller. He is under obligation to pay a fair profit to the 
trader, in remuneration for the skill, labor, and capital 
employed by the latter in the business of purchasing; 
and any attempt to defraud him of this remuneration, by 
any of the tricks of trade, or by underrating the true 
value of the goods, is a species of dishonesty. 

Excuses. — The various modes of dishonest dealing 
which have been mentioned, are frequently justified, by 
those who employ them, on the ground that such prac- 
tices are nearly universal ; that if they did not practise 
them, others would ; that the competition is so great, that 
they could do no business ; that in no other way can they 
live, and support their families. I reply : these excuses — 
even granting the validity of the statements — make the 
practices in question none the less immoral and dishonest. 
If every other person employed in the trafi^ic cheats his 
customers, by giving them light weight and short measure, 
diluted and adulterated liquors, damaged in place of per- 
fect articles, or by selling at a higher than the true market 
value, it is none the less a fraud for me to do the same. 
If the competition is such that I cannot carry on the 



166 DUTIES PEETAININ^G TO PROPERTY. 



business without resorting to sucli artifices, it is quite 
time that I was out of it, and in some more honest 
employment. As to the argument from the necessity of 
living and supporting one's family, " it is obvious," says 
Dr. Wayland, " that, were this plea allowed, it would put 
an end to all questions of morals ; for there never was an 
iniquity so infamous as not to find multitudes who were 
ready to justify it on this plea." 

Jjhnitations of the Right of Property. — In this connec- 
tion may be noticed certain questions respecting the limi- 
tation of the right of property. Cases may arise in which 
there shall seem to be a necessity for taking the pro23erty 
of others without their consent. Of the right of the state 
to take so much of the land of any citizen, with the build- 
ings and improvements thereon, as may be necessary for 
the public good, in laying out roads and constructing other 
public works, I have already spoken. Such right must be 
conceded, and that irrespective of the owner's consent, 
though not without a fair equivalent. On the same prin- 
ciple, the individual is bound to meet his given proportion 
of the public expenses, in the shape of taxes; and if he 
refuses to do so, the state may take so much of his property 
as is necessary for this purpose, without his consent. 

But, aside from these and the like instances, in which the 
state comes into conflict with the citizen, cases may arise 
in which the private individual, or a company of individ- 
uals, may find it necessary, in order to the preservation of 
life, to appropriate the property of another. A ship is in 
a storm at sea, and, in order to the preservation of all on 
board, it may be necessary to throw overboard a portion 
of her cargo. That, however, is private property, and to 
obtain the consent of the owner is, under the circumstances, 
impossible. In such a case, no one can hesitate. Life is 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 167 



more valuable than property; and even if it were not, the 
property fares no worse than it would if the ship went 
down with all on board. It will be lost, in either case. 
Nothing is gained to the owner by the attempt to save it. 

In like manner, and on the same principle, if the pro- 
visions fail in a ship, and the passengers are in danger 
of starving, there can be no question that they have 
the right to appropriate so much as may be necessary of 
the ship's cargo to their own support. These, and the like, 
are cases of necessity, against which there can be no law. 
Jurists accordingly, both ancient and modern, have ad- 
mitted that, under such circumstances, the right of property 
must give way to higher rights and interests. Whether, 
under other and ordinary circumstances, a starving man has 
the right to take food not belonging to him, may admit of 
question, inasmuch as society usually makes provision for 
his relief in another mode. 



CHAPTER IV. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 

JReputation a Might. — Among the springs of human 
action, there is none more powerful, or more universal, 
than the love of esteem. It has its seat in the constitution 
of our nature. Reputation is one of the goods which every 
man desires to get and to keep ; among the first and great- 
est, indeed, of those goods — than which no possession is 
more valuable, no right more sacred. A good name is 
better than gold. No wealth can purchase it ; once lost, 
no treasure can replace it. Hence it is held always among 



.168 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 



the clearest and most precious of earthly possessions. Its 
loss may entail the most serious consequences. 

Society is bound to protect every man in the possession 
and enjoyment of whatever justly belongs to him ; hence 
it is bound to protect him in this, as one of his most valu- 
able and sacred rights. This is a principle recognized by 
the laws of civilized society, both ancient and modern. 
" Est enim famae, ut et vitae, habenda ratio" — Reputation, 
as well as life, is to be regarded in law — was a maxim of 
Roman jurisprudence. The laws of England and of our 
own country, in hke manner, take cognizance of injuries 
affecting the reputation, no less than of injuries affecting 
the i^roperty and the life. There is reason and justice in 
this. One who by industry, skill, and patient toil, has built 
up a fortune, is justly entitled to the possession and enjoy- 
ment of the same. If now, by the same industry and skill, 
he has acquired a reputation, as artist, merchant, or profes- 
sional man, is he not by every principle of justice and right 
entitled equally also to that ? And is not the latter often 
much the more valuable acquisition of the two? To di- 
minish the esteem in which he is held, and rob him wholly 
or in part of his justly earned reputation, is to inflict on 
him a much more serious injury than to rob him of money. 

The violation of the right now under consideration is 
known under the general name of slander ; and in treating 
of this crime, it will be to our purpose to define what this 
term properly includes; to inquire further what the law 
of reputation requires and forbids, and in what cases it is 
allowable to speak to the injury of others ; and, finally, to 
show reasons why we should not, without cause, speak evil 
of any one. These topics will be severally discussed in 
the following sections. 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 169 



§ I. — Slander Defined. 

I understand this term to include all forms of detraction. 
It is the utterance of anything calculated to injure the 
good name and character of another, without due cause, 
whether maliciously, or inconsiderately. The utterance 
may he malicious — designed to injure. An enemy, or a 
rival, may take that way to gratify his revenge, or to pull 
down a competitor whom he cannot successfully encounter 
in a more open and honorable way. This is the height of 
meanness, and a crime of no ordinary turpitude. 

Or the act may be an inconsiderate and thoughtless one. 
There maybe no special, set design to injure another's rep- 
utation. The mere love of gossip, the desire to say or to 
hear some new thing, and especially the gratification which 
it affords to one's self-esteem and self-complacency to dwell 
upon the foibles and weaknesses of others, may be the real 
motive and spring of action ; and the injury which is to 
result to the good name and character of the person spoken 
of, may not occur to the speaker at the moment. This is, 
however, none the less slander. There may be a difference 
in the degree of guilt in the two cases, but both are crimes. 
The consequences are much the same in either case. We 
cannot excuse ourselves by saying, the mischief was not 
intended. A proper regard for duty, and for the rights 
of others, would have led us to pause before we uttered the 
injurious words, and to look at the consequences of what 
we were about to utter. Our forgetfulness and thoughtless- 
ness of consequences by no means frees us from responsi- 
bility from those consequences, be they what they may. 

Nor is it essential that the thing said should be false, in 
order to constitute it a slander. It may be a true thing; 
yet, if maliciously spoken, with design to injure, or even 
thoughtlessly uttered, without due and sufficient cause 

15 



170 DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 



why it slioiild be said, it is none the less slander. ISTo one 
has a moral right to injure his fellow, without cause, even 
by publishing what is strictly true of him. Doubtless there 
is more guilt in uttering falsehood maliciously, than in 
uttering truth maliciously ; more guilt in intentional than 
in inconsiderate slander ; all these, however, are forms of 
slander, — all are crimes. 

Perhaps the most common form of slander is that where 
one seeks to detract from the good opinion which a friend, 
or benefactor, or the community, entertain of a person 
whom he dislikes ; to awaken suspicion or distrust with 
regard to him, and so change his relation to the parties 
concerned, and to society. In a thousand ways this mis- 
chief may be done, this object accomplished. With due 
secrecy, and injunctions of secrecy upon those to whom the 
disclosure is made ; with every precaution to avoid detec- 
tion ; what is more, with great apparent reluctance to make 
the statements which are made, and with professions of 
friendship for the injured party, may the work be done. 
These are the usual subterfuges and pretences of the slan- 
derer. All such disguises are more or less hypocritical, and, 
as Paley has well remarked, they are all so many aggrava- 
tions of the offence, inasmuch as they indicate deliberation 
and design. 

§ n. — What the Law of Eeputation Foebids. 

From the definition already given of slander, as includ- 
ing all forms of detraction, the rule itself, of which this is 
a violation, becomes evident. The law of reputation for- 
bids us, in general, to say anything, without imperative rea- 
sons, that shall detract from the good name and reputation 
of another ; it requires us, on the other hand, to sustain that 
good name and reputation by all due and proper means. 



DUTIES PERTAIN-ING TO EEPUTATIOK 171 



Making piiblic the Faults of Others. — More specifi- 
cally, it forbids us needlessly and without cause to give 
publicity to the faults, or even the aggravated offences 
of others. We may know that which the public does 
not know, and which, if it were known, would tend very 
greatly to the injury of the individual concerned. Now, 
there may be circumstances which would require us, from 
a regard to the public good, or for other reasons which 
will be hereafter considered, to disclose the facts which 
have come to our knowledge. But, aside from these, we 
have no right, thoughtlessly, needlessly, without weighty 
and sufficient reasons, to make use of our information to 
the discredit and injury of the offending party. What- 
ever ]3ublicity he may give to his own actions, and 
whatever, in the natural course of justice and of divine 
providence, they may acquire, is another matter ; but the 
mere knowledge, on my part, that he has acted dishon- 
estly, is not a sufficient reason why I should speak of it to 
his injury, and gives me no right to do so. " One man," 
says Dr. Hickok, " has no right to be injuring the good 
name of another, even by reporting that which may be 
true of him, unless some grave interest of the public may 
demand it." The person to whose injury we are tempted 
to speak, may be himself deeply conscious of his own 
faults, and earnestly making efforts to overcome them. 
Or the particular offence that we have in mind may have 
been committed in former years, and under circumstances 
of peculiar temptation ; it may be something of which he 
has long and bitterly repented, and from which his whole 
subsequent life has turned away utterly. To give pub- 
licity to the matter, under such circumstances, would be 
to work infinite mischief and causeless ruin. 

Judging of the Ifotives of Others. — On the same 
principle, and by the same law of morality, we are for- 



172 DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 

bidden to judge of the motives of others, either by assign- 
ing to their conduct wrong motives, where right ones may 
reasonably be supposed, or by suggesting that the action 
proceeds from some other motive than that which is 
apparent and professed. We have no right to suppose 
or presume any such thing. The motives of men are for 
the most part known only to Him who sees the heart. 
We do great injustice to the character of others, when, 
on such imperfect and insufficient data as we have, and 
without' due cause, we set aside the professed intent and 
design of an action, and attribute it to some unworthy 
source. We like not to be ourselves judged in that 
manner, and have no right thus to judge the motives 
of others. 

Holding Others up to Ridicule. — Any deliberate at- 
tempt to bring others into contempt, by ridicule and rail- 
lery, and thus to detract from the esteem in which they 
would otherwise be held, is likewise a violation of the rule. 
The shafts of ridicule are, of all weapons with which one's 
reputation may possibly be assailed, the most fatal and 
venomous. They are the most difficult to meet, and for 
this reason both the more mischievous and the more cow- 
ardly. On this point the remarks of Dr. Wayland are 
forcible and just: "It is but a very imj^erfect excuse, for 
conduct of this sort, to plead that we do not mean any 
harm. What do we mean? Surely reasonable beings 
should be prepared to answer this question. Were the 
witty calumniator to stand concealed, and hear himself 
made the subject of remarks precisely similar to those in 
which he indulges respecting others, he would have a 
very definite conception of what others mean. Let him 
then carry the lesson home to his own bosom." 

Misinterpreting Others. — The law of reputation forbids 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 173 

US likewise to put a wrong construction on what others 
say and do, — to interpret their language or conduct as 
meaning one thing, while in reality it is susceptible of a 
very different interpretation, and then to make use of this 
false and forced construction to the injury of the party 
concerned. This is a course of procedure at once mis- 
chievous and despicable. When intentionally done, it is 
dowright dishonesty; when inadvertently, it is still a 
wrong and a crime. This is a form of slander to which 
the critic and literary reviewer, the disputant, the con- 
troversial writer, are too frequently tempted to resort, in 
answering an opponent, or pointing out what they may 
regard as error. The words and statements of an author 
are wrested, whether consciously or inadvertently, from 
their true meaning, and he is held up to public odium, on 
charges not less false than injurious. Even the records of 
theological controversy are not, it is to be feared, wholly 
free from this fault. 

J7i ichat Oases Silence not required. — Here the ques- 
tion may arise, whether, in all cases, we are bound to 
observe silence respecting the faults or crimes of others. 
Does the law of morality, as regards reputation, require us 
in all cases to conceal from the public eye what we may 
happen to know that is derogatory to the character of 
another? If not, then what are the exceptions? 

I reply, whenever the good of the community impera- 
tively requires the exposure of the faults or follies, the 
mistakes or crimes of another, then is the law of reputa- 
tion superseded, set aside by a higher claim, and we 
are at liberty to make known what has come to our 
observation ; but not otherwise. Thus, for example, a 
man may be enjoying a higher reputation as a scholar, 
a man of science, or for virtue and general worth, than he 

15* 



174 DUTIES PERTAINING TO REPUTATION. 

may seem to me to deserve. That gives me no right to- 
diminish his reputation, and bring him down to the level 
which, in my opinion, he ought to occupy. His reputation 
is his own acquirement and possession, and he has the 
right to enjoy it. If, however, this involves manifest 
injustice to another, then there is adequate cause for inter- 
ference, and for setting the matter right. So, in like ~ 
manner, if I have reason to suppose that any person is 
plotting the injury of another, or of the community, I 
have no right to keep silence, out of regard to his repu- 
tation. Or if a crime has been committed, and I know 
the authors, I am not at liberty to be silent where the 
ends of j)ublic justice and the public good require the 
disclosure of the guilty. These ends are of still higher 
moment than personal reputation, and the law of proce- 
dure in all such cases is plain. 

§ III. — Eeasons for Observing the Law of REPrxATiON. 

The law which has been stated as binding upon us, in 
the matter of speaking to the injury of others, is by no 
means a law without a reason. On the contrary, it is 
enforced by considerations of the most weighty and 
imperative character. 

Baseness of Slander. — One reason why we should not, 
without adequate cause, speak evil of any one, is, the base- 
ness of so doing. Slander is justly regarded as one of the 
basest and meanest of crimes. Some crimes find their 
apology in the strength of the natural appetite which 
prompts to their commission. But no man can plead, I sup- 
pose, a natural appetite for slander ; and even if he should, 
it would not be likely to raise him in our esteem, or to be 
taken as an excuse for his crime. Slander injures another, 
without benefit to one's self; destroys and lays waste 



DUTIES PEETAINING TO REPUTATION. 175 



without cause, wantonly, and for the mere sake of mis- 
chief. It is evil inflicted gratuitously, and for the evil's 
own sake. It is a course prompted by envy, or the desire 
of revenge. It has its source in the darkest and most 
malignant passions and principles of our fallen nature. 
There is nothing noble or magnanimous about it. It is a 
false, dishonorable, cowardly thing. No man can be guilty 
of it and retain self-respect, or the respect of others. He 
sinks himself in the estimation of all honorable men, and 
brands himself with the ignominy which he vainly seeks 
to fasten upon his victim. 

Effect on the Community. — It is to be considered, also, 
what would be the eifect on the community, were men to 
indulge freely in the habit of speaking evil one of another, 
and exposing one another's faults and follies, without ad- 
equate cause. Manifestly such a state of society would 
be almost intolerable. No one is free from faults ; and if 
every one were at liberty to expose to the public gaze the 
imperfections and weaknesses of all with whom he is con- 
versant, scandal must become the order of the day, and 
the great staple of conversation. Universal suspicion and 
distrust would be awakened ; the tenderest and most 
sacred relations of life would be involved ; and all social 
intercourse and organization must speedily come to an 
end. Nothing so weakens the restraints of crime and the 
regard for public virtue, as free converse of the failings 
and follies of others, especially of those who stand high in 
public estimation as persons of worth and character. 

Duty of the Citizen and of the Press. — It is incum- 
bent, then, on every good citizen, as he values the public 
welfare, the order and harmony and virtue of the com- 
munity, to abstain from the needless utterance of that 
which would tend to derogate from the respect in which 



176 DUTIES PERTAININ^G TO VERACITY. 



another is held ; and not only to abstain fi'om this himself, 
but to discountenance it in others, and brand it with his 
disapprobation and scorn. Especially is this incumbent on 
the public press. It is bad enough to give publicity to the 
failings of others in the limited circle of one's private 
acquaintance ; it is a greater mischief and a greater crime 
to publish them to the world. How sad the spectacle, 
when the jDress of a nation debases itself to the low work 
of slandering a political opponent or party, or of giving 
needless publicity to the failings of men high in authority 
and public esteem ! 



CHAPTER y. 

DUTIES PERTAINING TO YERACITY. 



Evidence that Veracity is a Duty. — Among the duties 
which we owe to society, is that of speaking the trutli in 
our varied intercourse with our fellow-men. That this is 
a duty, is evident from the demands of our moral nature, 
from the whole structure and framework of society, which 
in a measure depends on and presupposes this duty, as 
well as from the explicit commands of God's word. We 
are so constituted as to place confidence in the testimony 
of our fellow-men ; and our moral nature, our sense of 
right and justice, is violated when we find ourselves de- 
ceived. We are also naturally inclined to speak the 
truth, and it is only under strong temptations to the con- 
trary that we are induced to pursue an opposite course. 
Wlienever we yield to these inducements, our moral na- 
ture is violated ; we are conscious of wrong and self-deg- 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 177 

radation ; we are cast down from our integrity. This 
moral nature, this disposition to credit others, this im- 
pulse to truthfulness, this loss of self-esteem and con- 
sciousness of wrong when we deviate from the truth in 
our statements, is in itself an indication of the will of the 
Creator, too plain to be mistaken. This nature of ours 
is his workmanship). 

The effects, moreover, which would result if truth were 
to be abandoned in the intercourse of man with man, the 
disastrous consequences to society of that general distrust 
and want of confidence which would necessarily ensue, 
may be taken as evidence of the will of the Deity, and 
of the obligation of veracity. 

To this have been added the explicit declarations of 
Scripture, forbidding, in the plainest and most positive 
terms, deceit and falsehood, and assuring us that lying 
lips are an abomination to the Lord. Into that heavenly 
felicity which awaits the righteous, there can in nowise 
enter, we are told, anything that maketh a lie. 

We can hardly be mistaken, then, in regarding veracity 
as a duty. 

In treating of it, our inquiries may have reference to 
truthfulness in ordinary discourse, or as regards the prom- 
ises made between man and man, or in the more solemn 
form of the judicial oath. 

§ 1. — Truthfulness in Common Discourse. 

W/iere lies the Obligation to this. — That we are under 
obligation to speak the truth in the ordinary conversation 
and social intercourse of life, is hardly to be questioned. 
A question may arise, however, as to what constitutes^ or 
where lies that obligation. Dr. Paley places it on the 
ground of virtual promise. Truth is expected, and con- 



178 DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



Tersation implies a tacit promise to meet that expecta- 
tion ; otherwise we should not be at the trouble of con- 
versing. " A lie is a breach of promise." 

The pernicious consequences which, directly and indi- 
rectly, result to society and to the individual from the want 
of truthfulness in discourse, may also be regarded as con- 
stituting an obligation to veracity. A lie destroys the 
confidence of man in man, and so strikes at the very 
foundations of society. It is jDcrnicious, and wholly so in 
its tendency. The business of life would be at once in- 
terrupted, and all social intercourse destroyed, if false- 
hood, and not truth, were to become the rule and basis 
of human discourse. 

The individual suffers, no less than society, from any 
violation of the law of truth. The spiritual nature is 
degraded, and moral principle weakened, if not destroyed, 
by every such violation. At the same time, the highest 
indignity is offered to . the moral nature of others. The 
attempt at deception and imposition which eveiy false 
statement involves, is in itself an insult of the grossest 
nature, to whomsoever it is offered. Every honorable 
man so regards it. 

We need, then, inquire no further for the ground of 
obligation to sj^eak the truth in all our converse with our 
fellow-men. 

Lies Defined. — The crime against the laws of veracity 
in common discourse, is known under the general name 
of a lie. But what exactly constitutes a lie? Are all 
untrue statements lies ? Evidently not. A lie is the ut- 
terance of an untruth with intention to deceive. The 
deception is the essential element. Now, in very many 
cases, where statements are made that are not according 
to strict truth, there is no intention to deceive, and no 
actual deception. Of this nature are parables, fictions, 



DUTIES PERTAI^flXG TO VERACITY. 179 

dramas, allegories, and all that class of writings, as also 
the buriesque, and other species of wit. The intention 
of the author is simply to amuse, or, at most, to convey 
instruction, through the medium of the fiction, and the 
interest thus awakened ; and it is understood, from the 
first, that the course of the story is not an exact narrative 
of events that have actually hai^pened, in the precise order 
and manner as there described. The statements are not 
according to strict truth, yet there is no intention to de- 
ceive. They are in one sense false, yet they are not lies. 

On the other hand, there are some lies that are not 
properly falsehoods. Some truths, even, are lies. When 
uttered with intention to deceive, they are virtually lies. 
A statement may be true literally, and in the exact sense, 
and yet not true in the sense in which the hearer or 
reader is likely to understand it; and if I take advan- 
tage of this purposely to deceive him, although my state- 
ment may be strictly true, yet, as I use it, and intend it 
to be taken, it is really a lie. Of this nature are very 
many of the prevarications, subterfuges, and reserved 
meanings, which have been justified by casuists, especially 
of the Romish faith. 

JVbt of 7iecessity Oral. — It is not essential to a lie, that 
it be an oral, or even a written statement. It may be 
expressed in signs, which are intelligible as a medium of 
communication, and which, as in the case of the deaf 
mute, may constitute in fact a language in themselves. 
A lie may be acted, as well as sjDoken. When, in answer 
to a question, I reply by means of a look, a movement of 
the arm, a turning of the head, a pointing of the finger — 
that is my statement, my answer ; and it is either true or 
false. In the latter case it means deception, if it means 
anything, and is, therefore, a lie. Nay, more ; even silence 
may be itself a lie. The simple omission or suppression 



180 DUTIES PERTAIXIXG TO VERACITY. 

of the truth, may be as real deception, and may as really 
be so intended, as the statement of the opposite. If, in 
the statement of evidence before a jury, I omit some part 
essential to the real merit and aspect of the case, my omis- 
sion — my silence — is a virtual falsehood, and that with 
intent to deceive. So of the instance mentioned by Dr. 
Paley, of the historical writer, who, in his account of the 
reign of Charles the First, should suppress any evidence 
of that ruler's despotism ; he is understood to be relating 
the whole truth, and the omission of an important part 
of that truth may justly be regarded as a lie. 

'Whether Justifiable in any Case. — Are lies ever justi- 
fiable ? Are we in all cases bound to speak the truth, be 
the consequences what they may ? Suppose, for example, 
I meet a madman, or a robber, who threatens j^ersonal 
violence : shall I divert him from his object by teUing a 
falsehood, and thus save my property, or my life, or, per- 
haps, the Hves of others ? According to Paley, a false- 
hood in such a case is not a lie, — that is, is not criminal, 
— because no great harm. is done. The immediate conse- 
quence is, by the supposition, beneficial; and the worst 
that can happen is that these men, once deceived, will 
not be Hkely to trust me again. But then, as they are not 
likely to come again in my way, this disadvantage, he 
maintains, does not outweigh the positive advantage 
gained by the falsehood. 

It may so happen, however, that some one else shall 
meet this madman, or this robber, even if I do not ; and 
in consequence of my falsehood, and the distrust thus 
awakened, this person may lose his life. I purchase my 
own safety, in such a case, at the expense of the safety 
of others. Because my statement has proved false, the 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



181 



statements of another, even when speaking the truth, may 
not be believed. 

A False Principle. — Besides this, the principle here 
assumed is a false one. It makes the obligation to speak 
the truth depend on the iiiconvenience resulting from false 
statements. This is by no means the case. If this were 
so, there were an end to all morality. If the truth may 
be set aside, and falsehood uttered in its place, whenever 
it shall seem to be, on the whole, for the advantage of the 
speaker so to do, — when there is some end to be gained 
by it which to him is of some importance, — the law of ve- 
racity is not merely weakened, but essentially destroyed. 
If there is no higher obligation to truth, or any other 
virtue, than the advantages immediately resulting from 
it ; and if it is left to the individual, in every case, to de- 
cide whether it is, on the whole, more expedient for him 
in tlie present instance to practise virtue or its opposite, — 
tlien the whole system of morality rests, it must be con- 
fessed, on a very precarious basis. Under the influence 
of passion, of fear, of strong temptation, it can hardly be 
doubtful how, in most cases, men will decide. The pres- 
ent gain will outweigh the ultimate advantage, and vice 
will be preferred to virtue. Men will do evil that good 
may come; they will justify their crimes by the plea that 
great advantage is to result. This is the principle of the 
casuist and the bigot, in all ages, that the end justifies the 
means. 

But, it may be said, the person to whom we speak has 
no right to demand information: are we, in that case, 
under obligation to inform him ? I reply : we may be 
under no obligation, perhaps, to give him informati-on 
which he is not entitled to ask ; but this does not author- 
ize us to tell him a falsehood, in place of the truth. We 

16 ^ 



182 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



are not obliged to answer his inquiries at all ; but, if we 
do, we have no right to tell him a lie. 

It should be remembered, moreover, that even though 
there may be no obligation on our part to the questioner^ 
we may, nevertheless, owe it to ourselves, to speak the 
truth, and that only. He who puts the question is not 
the only person to be regarded in the case. Something 
is due to our own sense of honor and self-respect, and 
to that unblemished integrity of character, at the loss of 
which even life itself were dearly purchased. 

Objection. — It may be said that, where life is in dan- 
ger, the right of self-defence, which has already befen con- 
ceded, involves the right of deception and falsehood, if 
necessary to the preservation of life. If I may justly kill 
my assailant, in order to save my own life, why may I 
not lie, in order to save it? Falsehood is surely not a 
greater crime than the taking of human life. To this I 
reply, that the right of self-protection from lawless vio- 
lence does not necessarily imply the right to defend our- 
selves in all possible ways, and under all circumstances. 
There may be methods of defence Avhich are not justifi- 
able, and this may be one of them. It is only in extreme 
cases, as when I must either kill or be killed, that the law 
of self-defence allows me to take the life of my assailant. 
In such a case, by the very supposition, falsehood will not 
answer the purjDose. But, even if it would, it does not 
follow that the right to defend myself or others from law- 
less violence, by opposing force to force and weapon to 
weapon, involves the right to protect myself or them in 
another and a very different manner, viz., by falsehood. 
There is a meanness and dishonor about the latter course, 
in stooping to which, even to save life itself, I incur a self- 
degradation and self-contempt, which, to the high-minded 
and honorable spirit, will justly seem one of the greatest 



DUTIES PERTAIXIIsTG TO VERACITY. 183 

calamities. It does not follo\T, that because I have the 
right to protect my person and my life by a manly and 
vigorous defence, I therefore have the right to do so by 
resorting to a mean and dishonorable artifice. It may be 
better to forfeit life itself, than honor and self-respect. It 
may be better to take the life of the aggressor, already 
forfeited, than to do either. 

Treatment of the Insane. — The question may arise, 
Avhether the law of veracity is strictly to be observed in 
our treatment of that unfortunate class in whom reason 
no longer holds her seat. The practice, if I mistake not, 
very generally prevails, of resorting to decejDtion and 
direct falsehood in such cases, in order to effect an object 
not otherwise readily attained. Such a course can be 
justified only on the ground that the insane person is, by 
reason of his condition, an irrational and irresponsible 
being, and, as such, an exception to all ordinary rules; 
and that a regard to his own highest good requires him 
to be so treated. In such a case, the law of benevolence 
may possibly set aside the law of veracity. How far such 
a course is actually wise and expedient, — how far it is 
likely to be successful in accomplishing the objects in view, 
— whether honesty and veracity are not, even in such 
cases, in the long run, the best policy, — is, to say the 
least, an open question. 

Importance of Truth in Trifles. — It is of the highest 
importance to form a habit of speaking the truth, even in 
matters of little moment. Such a habit, securely and 
firmly fixed, is one of the surest bulwarks against the 
encroachments of vice. It is essential to a truly noble 
and virtuous character. Untruthfulness in little things, 
leads to deception in more important matters, and on a 
larger scale. " White lies," it has been well said, " always 
introduce others of a darker complexion. I have seldom 



184 DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 

known any one who deserted truth in trifles, that could 
be trusted in matters of importance." "There is no vice," 
says Dr. Wayland, " which, more easily than this, stupefies 
a man's conscience. He who tells lies frequently, will 
soon become an habitual liar; and an habitual liar will 
soon lose the power of distinguishing between the con- 
ceptions of his imagination, and the recollections of his 
memory. I have known a few persons who seemed to 
have arrived at this most deplorable moral condition. 
Let every one, therefore, beware of even the most distant 
approaches to this detestable vice." 

§ XL Veracity as Eegards Promises, 

Wheoice the Obligation. — The obligation to keep a 
promise, according to some writers, arises from the neces- 
sity of such a course to the well-being and even exist- 
ence of society. Men act from expectations founded 
upon the assurances of others ; and if no confidence could 
be reposed in such assurances, the varied intercourse of 
life could not go on, and society would be at an end. 

This is doubtless true, and it furnishes a strong and in 
itself imperative reason for the fulfillment of promises. 
In the absence of any other and higher principle, this 
would of itself constitute an obligation to such a course. 

But it is by no means true, that there is no higher prin- 
ciple applicable to the case. The law of expediency, how- 
ever weighty, is not the only law, nor is it the ground of 
obligation in the present case. It is not a sufficient 
account of the matter. Aside from all considerations of 
this nature, from all results of evil to the community and 
to the individual, have I a moral right to awaken expecta- 
tions which I do not intend to meet, and thus to disap- 
point and deceive my fellow-men ? Is it not a species of 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



185 



fraud, of dishonesty, which is in itself a crime, aside from 
its ruinous consequences to society ? Does not the law of 
veracity, which makes it binding on me to speak the truth 
in my ordinary conversation, oblige me also to keep my 
promises? 

In ivhat sense to he interpreted. — How is a promise to 
be interpreted ? Shall it be as the promiser himself under- 
stands it? But he may intend to deceive. He may so 
frame his explanations as intentionally to convey a false 
idea to the party receiving the promise, — saying one thing 
and meaning another. Is he, in that case, bound only by 
his own meaning and intention ? A man promises to pay 
me a certain sum of money for certain services, really in- 
tending to make payment in some worthless or depreciated 
currency. Is he bound, in that case, only to fulfill his orig- 
inal intention ? This, of course, cannot be conceded. 

Shall we say, then, that the promise is to be inter- 
preted as the party to whom the promise is made under- 
stands it ? But here again there is a difficulty ; for the 
receiver may, on his part, misunderstand the promise, and 
the real meaning of the promiser. In the case supposed, 
I may understand the promise of my employer to be that 
I shall be paid in gold, while he really means and promises 
nothing of the sort. It would be manifestly unfair to hold 
the promiser bound to fulfill his promise, not according to 
its real meaning, but according to any construction that 
the whim or fancy of the other party chose to put upon it. 

Obviously the only just rule is to take the words in 
their natural and proper signification, as meaning just 
what they would naturally be understood to mean by 
any one not specially concerned in the matter ; in other 
words, as he who made the promise supposed that it 
would, and intended that it should, be understood. The 
promiser is bound to abide by this interpretation, and to 

16# 



186 DUTIES PERTAIITING TO VERACITY. 



meet the expectations which he has thus formed, and 
which he intended to form. If he fails to do this, he is 
guilty of dishonesty. 

In illustration of this princij^le, Paley refers to the his- 
torical incident of the treachery practised ui3on the garri- 
son of Sebastia, who were promised that, if they would 
surrender, oio blood should he shed ; but who were, on sur- 
rendering, buried alive ; — the j)romise being kept as to its 
letter, but broken in reality. 

In lohat cases not binding . — As a general rule, there 
can be no doubt of the obligation to fulfill a promise once 
made. And yet there are exceptions to that rule. ]S"ot 
every promise is binding. What, then, are these excep- 
tions ? 

Suppose, for example, I have promised to do what is 
in itself unlawful, — to commit a crime, to lie, to steal, to 
commit murder, in any way to violate the laws of society 
or the laws of God, — am I under obligation to keej) such 
a promise ? Unquestionably not. There can be no obli- 
gation on any man to do wrong. It is a contradiction of 
terms to say that a man ought to do what he ought not to 
do. In case the unlawfulness of the act contemplated was 
hnovm at the time the promise was made, then the prom- 
ise itself was a guilty one, and the sooner it is broken the 
better. The guilt of such promises, it has been well said, 
lies not in the breaking, but in the making. In case the 
unlawfulness was not known, but the thing promised was, 
at the time, supposed to be lawful, this supposed lawful- 
ness was manifestly an implied condition of the promise; 
and a failure of the condition, implies a failure of the obli- 
gation. The promise is to be taken in its plain and 
obvious intent; and if there was no intention to do a 
wrong act, no promise to do a known wrong, of course 



DUTIES PERTAIXING TO VERACITY. 



18T 



there is no obligation in the premises. This was the case 
with Herod, whose j^romise was to give his daughter what- 
ever she might ask ; but who, in making that promise, had 
no thought of her asking what she did. In taking the 
]ife of John the Baptist, under such circumstances, that 
ruler committed the crime of murder in order to avoid 
breaking a promise which, in reality, he never made ; and 
which, if made, he had not only no obligation but no right 
to keep. 

In like manner, a promise obtained by any misrepresen- 
tation or fraud on the part of the person receiving the 
promise, is not binding, when such fraud or misrepresenta- 
tion is discovered, inasmuch as the condition on which the 
l^romise was made jDroves false. If a beggar, for instance, 
obtains my signature for a sum of money to relieve his 
apparent distress, and I afterwards discover that he is an 
impostor, and his distress counterfeit, my promise, which 
was made on the strength of that representation, is no 
longer morally binding. 

Impossibilities. — Nor can a promise bind any man to 
perform what proves to be an impossibility. " We cannot 
be under obligation," says Dr. Wayland, " to do what is 
plainly out of our power." If, however, at the time the 
promise was made, we ourselves kneio that it was an im- 
possibility to perform the same, we are really guilty of 
fraud; since a promise is an implied belief that the thing 
promised is possible. Here, again, it is not the breaking, 
but the making of the promise that is criminal. Xo one has 
a right to promise wliat he does not believe can be done, 
much less what he knows cannot be. Thus, for example, 
the proprietor of a stage, steamboat, or other vehicle, has 
no right to promise to convey me to a certain place within 
a specified time, if he knows, or has any reason to believe, 
that, owing to the state of the roads, or state of the 



188 DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



weather, it will be impossible to reach the given point 
nntil after the time specified. The builder or contractor 
has no right to promise that the house which he is erect- 
ing shall be ready for occupancy at a given time, when in 
all probability it cannot be completed, as he very well 
knows, until some weeks, or even months, after that date. 
All such promises are dishonest. 

I am well aware that nothing is more common than 
promises of just this nature; insomuch that it has come to 
be almost proverbial that no dependence is to be placed, in 
regard to such matters, upon the word of those who per- 
haps would scorn to be guilty of falsehood in other things. 
It is none the less a falsehood and a fraud, however, because 
of frequent occurrence. Nor is it any justification of such 
a course, to say that the thing promised was in its nature 
impossible of fulfillment. This we should have thought of 
before we promised. We had no right to promise an un- 
certainty, much less an impossibility. 

Extorted Promises. — A promise may be extorted by 
violence — by an appeal to fear. Placed in imminent peril, 
I promise the highwayman or the assassin that, if he will 
spare my life, I will not betray him, or give information 
that shall lead to his arrest. Am I bound to keep that 
promise ? This is a point upon which moralists have 
greatly differed, and which it is not easy to decide. On 
the one hand, it may be said, that were such j^i'omises in a 
few instances broken, confidence would no longer be re- 
posed in them, and whoever should fall into the hands of 
the highwayman would be murdered as well as robbed. On 
the other hand, justice and the safety of the public demand 
the arrest of the criminal. My silence may cost many 
lives. I have no right to purchase my own safety at the 
expense of the lives and safety of others. And then, aside 



DUTIES PERTAININ"G TO VEKACITY. 189 



from this, — the advantage or disadvantage to the com- 
munity, — am I under obligation to keep a promise forced 
from me under such circumstances ? As the obho;ation of 
one party always implies a corresponding right of the other, 
I am surely not bound to give what he who extorts the 
promise has no right to demand. Nor has he the right to 
demand the fulfillment of a promise which he had in the first 
place no right to procure. But, had he any right, under 
the circumstances, to make me promise what I did ? Had 
he a right to my life, a right to put me in peril and in fear, 
a right to the violence and threats by which he extorted 
the promise in the first instance? If not, then what be- 
comes of his right to demand the falfillment of a promise 
thus extorted ; and if he has no right to demand it, then, 
as far as he is concerned at least, I am under no obligation 
to keep it. 

Were the circumstances otherwise — had I, by my own 
carelessness, or curiosity, or folly, placed myself in the 
power of such a person, and then purchased my life by 
promise of secrecy, the case had been different, and the 
argument, as above given, would no longer hold. 

Contracts. — A contract is a mutual promise between 
two parties, — one engaging to do one thing, provided 
the other will do another thing. It comes, therefore, 
under the same general rule with promises. I am bound 
to fulfill a contract, for the same reasons that I am bound 
to keep any otlier promise that I have made. 

The same rule which applies to the interpretation- of 
promises, applies also to contracts. They are to be taken 
according to their plain and obvious signification, as mean- 
ing that which they would naturally be understood to 
mean by any intelligent and unprejudiced person. The 
rule given by Paley is to the same effect : " Whatever is 



190 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



expected by one side, and known to be so expected by 
the other, is to be deemed a part or condition of the con- 
tract." 

The failure of the party, with whom we contract, to fal- 
fill his part of the obligation, releases us from ours, since 
it is the failure of the condition on which the contract was 
made, and on which it entirely depends. 

A society, or company of men, it hardly need be said, 
is under the same obligation to fulfill its contracts, as an 
individual ; the state, as the citizen. Nations and states, 
in their dealings with each other, are under the same laws 
and obligations of veracity and honesty in regard to all 
their treaties and compacts, as those which bind the con- 
science of the private citizen. 

§ III. — Veracity in Kespect to Oaths. 

I. Significance of the Oath. — It is often of the highest 
importance to secure the most exact truthfulness of state- 
ment — to make sure that what is asserted is not false. To 
secure this most effectually is the object of an oath. This 
is calling on the Supreme Being, -the omniscient and om- 
nipotent ruler of the universe, to witness that what we 
say is true, and to deal w^ith us in strict justice if it be not 
true. We thus j^lace ourselves under the highest conceiv- 
able obligations and motives to truthfulness ; since, to make 
this solemn appeal to the majesty of Heaven, and then 
directly, and in the face of it, to utter that which is false, in 
the very ear of Him Avhom we have called to witness our 
truthfulness, would be an act of impiety the most daring and 
reckless of which we can well conceive. He who has any 
just, or even remote idea of the value of the divine favor, 
and the danger of incurring the displeasure of Him w^ho 



DUTIES PERTAIISI^^G TO VERACITY. 191 



holds our very breath m the hollow of his hand, will not, 
for the sake of any present advantage, venture to offer so 
deliberate an insult to the Supreme Being. By imprecat- 
ing upon ourselves the divine displeasure and curse if we 
speak falsely, we place ourselves under the highest possible 
motives to truthfulness. And this is the theory and sig- 
nificance of the oath. 

Form of Expression. — The usual form of expression 
in the English oath is, '■'-So help me God^^ — in which the 
emphatic word is the particle so; that is, may God be 
my helj^er and friend, in all things wherein I need his help, 
now and hereafter, in life and in death, in time and eter- 
nity, only so far as, and on condition that, I now speak the 
truth. To add still further solemnity to the act, the juror 
places his hand on the word of God, or lifts it to heaven in 
sign of solemn invocation and appeal. This latter was the 
ancient Jewish custom, whence ours is probably derived. 
With the Greeks and Romans it was customary to slay a 
victim, on solemn occasions, when it was desired to give spe- 
cial importance to the transaction. Hence, from the strik- 
ing dowD of the beast, the expression ym>e/)«ctoi, whence 
our own phrase, to strike a bargain. 

II. Different Applications of the Oath. — There are two 
different kinds, or, more properly, different applications of 
the oath. I may take oath that I will testify truly, or that 
I will perform some engagement. The oath of testimony 
places me under the most solemn obligation to state that 
which I know respecting a given matter, w^ithout addition, 
or suppression, without exaggerating, or mitigating, or 
falsely coloring aught. The oath of engagement binds me 
to the faithful performance of any duty which may be 
assigned me, or the fulfillment of any ofiice of trust com- 
mitted to me, or of any engagement which I voluntarily 



192 DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 

assume. More frequently, oaths of this class are either 
oaths of office or of trust. As regards the latter, it seems 
an obvious propriety that, where interests of great moment 
are intrusted to the keeping of successive guardians, in, it 
may be, successive generations of men, every precaution 
should be taken to secure the fidelity of those thus trusted. 
This is the case with corporate bodies, to whom is com- 
mitted the business of executing an instrument, or appro- 
priating a charity according to the designs of the testator 
or founder. Our institutions of learning, and other be- 
nevolent and charitable institutions, which depend, for the 
most part, on funds given for the purpose, are managed by 
boards of trust, the members of which, when they enter 
upon their duties, take oath to administer the trust ac- 
cording to the intention of the instrument, and the will 
of the donor. 

Oath of Office. — The common oath of office is, per- 
haps, of more questionable jDropriety. When the duties 
of the office assumed are of such a nature as to require 
the added security and solemnity of an oath; when the 
office is one of great importance, or of unusual difficulty ; 
and when much depends on the fidelity and skill with 
which its duties are performed, — there can be no doubt as 
to the propriety and utility of the oath. Such is the case 
when men are called to the high and important oflices of 
the state — to the administration of public affixirs. What- 
ever can add to the sense of moral obligation, and quicken 
the conscience, should be brought to bear in such a case. 

The oath should be imposed, however, only on occasions 
of importance. Its too frequent imposition tends rather 
to weaken than to strengthen the sense of obligation, and 
the restraints of virtue. In proportion as it becomes a 
familiar and common thing, its sacredness is impaired, its 
efficacy destroyed. It comes to be regarded as a mere 



DUTIES PERTAIXIXG TO YERACITY. 193 



form, and takes no hold upon the conscience. Such a use 
of it must tend greatly to obliterate all moral distinctions, 
all nice perceptions of duty and sense of obligation, from 
the mind. 

This effect is very greatly increased by the senseless 
and unmeaning manner in which the oath is, in such cases, 
very generally administered by the official whose duty it 
is to induct into office the new incumbent. The words 
are hurried over with extreme rapidity, and in the most 
careless manner, as if they were the merest form, or as if 
whatever meaning they had were something to be ashamed 
of, rather than to be carefully pondered. It were much 
better that all such oaths should never be administered. 
They are productive of more evil than good. 

Even aside from this irreverent and senseless manner 
which too frequently accompanies the administration of 
the oath of office, why, it may be asked, is it necessary to 
make use of the solemn sanctions of religion to secure 
fidelity in the discharge of every petty office and employ- 
ment to which men may be called in the details of public 
duty? "Why should one man," it has been well said, 
" who is called upon to discharge the duties of a constable, 
or of an overseer of common schools, or even of a coun- 
sellor or a judge, be placed under the pains and penalties 
of perjury, or under peril of his eternal salvation, any more 
than his neighbor, who discharges the duties of a mer- 
chant, of an instructor of youth, a physician, or a clergy- 
man ? " On this point, the remarks of Dr. Paley, with 
reference to the frequency of oaths, are worthy of consid- 
eration, as equally applicable to our own country. " This 
obscure and elliptical form, together with the levity and 
frequency with which it is administered, has brought about 
a general inadvertency to the obligation of oaths, which, 
both in a religious and political view, is much to be 

17 



194 DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 



lamented; and it merits public consideration, whether 
the requiring of oaths on so many frivolous occasions, 
especially in the customs, and in the qualification for petty 
offices, has any other effect than to make them cheap in the 
minds of the people. A pound of tea cannot travel reg- 
ularly from the shij) to the consumer, without costing half 
a dozen oaths at the least ; and the same security for the 
due discharge of their office — namely, that of an oath — 
is required from a church-warden and an archbishop, from 
a petty constable and the Chief Justice of England." 

III. JLaiofulness of Oaths. — There are certain religious 
sects, as the Moravians, and the Quakers, which regard the 
oath as unlawful on any occasion, and, on the ground of 
these" scruples, refuse to swear. In support of this view 
they cite the words of our Saviour, in Matthew v. 34, 37 : 
" I say unto you, swear not at all," " Let your communica- 
tion be yea, yea, and nay, nay; for whatsoever is more 
than these cometh of evil." That our Saviour intended by 
these words to prohibit the solemn judicial oath, there is 
not the least evidence. On the contrary, his words evi- 
dently refer to the use of oaths in common conversation ; 
that is, to profane swearing, and to all irreverent and un- 
authorized appeals to Heaven in confirmation of our ve- 
racity, without judicial form and sanction. The Jews seem 
to have distinguished between swearing by the name of 
God, and swearing by other and less sacred objects, as the 
heaven, the earth, Jerusalem, the head, etc., — regarding the 
latter forms as less sacred and binding than the former one. 
Christ forbids all such use of language, as irreverent to the 
Supreme Being, and his direction therefore is, swear not at 
all; that is, not in any of these ways : they are all improper 
and profane. That, in so saying, he intended to forbid the 



DUTIES PERTAI]S:iNG TO VERACITY. 195 



judicial oath, there is no evidence, but the highest improb- 
abihty. 

Sanctioned in Scripture. — No attentive reader of the 
Scriptures can fail to observe the fact, that the solemn oath 
is repeatedly recognized and sanctioned in the sacred 
writings. Our Saviour himself was once put on oath by 
the high-priest, and made reply, when "adjured by the 
living God," to declare whether he was the Christ, the Son 
of God. God repeatedly swears by himself, in the Old 
Testament Scriptures. In order to show the immuta- 
bility of his counsel, he confirmed his own covenant with 
the Jews by an oath. " For when God made promise to 
Abraham, because he could swear by no greater, he sware 
by himself." " For men verily swear by the greater ; 
and an oath for confirmation is to them the end of all 
strife. Wherein God willing more abundantly to show 
unto the heirs of promise the immutability of his coun- 
sel, confirmed it by an oath" (Heb. vi. 13, 16, 17). "I 
have sworn by myself, the word is gone out of my 
mouth in righteousness, and shall not return" (Is. xlv. 
23). " The Lord God hath sworn by himself, saith the 
Lord the God of hosts" (Amos vi. 8). "For I have sworn 
by myself, saith the Lord, that Bozrah shall become a 
desolation" (Jer. xlix. 13). 

Among the precepts of the law given on Sinai we find 
the following : " Thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, and 
serve him, and shalt swear by his name" (Deut. vi. 13). The 
same is repeated in Deut. x. 20. The judicial oath is prob- 
ably referred to in these passages. Still more explicitly in 
the following : " Then shall an oath of the Lord be between 
them both, that he hath not put his hand unto his neigh- 
bor's goods" (Ex. xxii. 11). Paul, in his epistles, repeatedly 
calls God to witness, in the most solemn manner, for the 



196 DUTIES PEETAIXING TO VERACITY. 



truth of what he says. " For God is my witness" (Rom. 
i. 9). " Moreover, I call God for a witness upon my soul" 
(2 Cor. i. 23). From the above examples it is evident 
that oaths, solemn and judicial, are by no means con- 
demned in the Scriptures, but, on the contrary, sanctioned 
both by precept and exami^le. 

Necessity of the Oath. — That the fi-equent and irrever- 
ent use of the oath, on trifling occasions, tends to evil, has 
already been admitted; that its use can be, or need be, 
entirely dispensed with in judicial transactions, and on 
public occasions of solemn moment, I am not ready to 
admit. The state needs to employ it ; nor can the ends of 
justice be well secured without it. Keputation, property, 
life itself, and all the interests that are dear to man on the 
earth, depend on the sanctity of the oath. So long as hu- 
man nature is what it is, it is absolutely necessary to throw 
around the forms of justice, and the offices of high public 
trust, the solemnity and sanction of a direct appeal to the 
omniscient and omnij^otent Ruler of men and things. 

'Where Religious Belief is wanting. — The state may 
have occasion for the testimony or public services of those 
who have either no religious belief, or a widely different 
one from the commonly received faith ; as, for example, of 
one who beUeves in Mohammed, or in the deities of the 
pagan world ; of one who, as the Jew, believes in God, but 
not in Christ; or of one who rejects the doctrine of a 
future state, or of future retribution. In such cases, of 
what avail is the oath, in its usual form and significance ? I 
reply : if the faith of the testator in God, and in the retri- 
butions of the future, be not wholly wanting, his oath may 
be upon and according to his faith, whatever that may be, 
— whether Jewish, Pagan, or Mohammedan ; and, as his 



DUTIES PERTAINING TO VERACITY. 197 

religion is more or less practical, and pure, and exerts more 
or less restraint and influence on his life, so his oath will 
be more or less binding on his conscience, and his testi- 
mony will be more or less worthy of credence, in that pro- 
portion. If, however, either the existence of the Supreme 
Being, or a state of future rewards and punishments, be 
not an object of earnest belief to the testator, it is difficult 
to see of what validity the oath can any longer be. It has 
lost its significance, so far as he is concerned, and his testi- 
mony, if taken, must be taken with allowance, and for 
^vhat it is worth, 

17* 



PART III. 



DUTIES TO THE FAMILY. 



"We have as yet considered only those duties which 
man owes to himself, to society, and to his fellow-men 
in general. There are other duties, not less important, of a 
more sj^ecific character. There are in the world two great 
institutions, — both of divine origin, both founded in 
man's moral and social nature, both placing him in new 
and peculiar relations, and requiring of him new and pecu- 
liar duties, — I mean the Family and the State. Of the 
former I am now to treat. 

The duties which belong to this class divide themselves 
naturally into those of the marriage relation, and those of 
the parental relation ; or, the duties of husband and wife, 
and those of parent and child. 



CHAPTER L 

DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 

The family is a distinct and peculiar institution, standing 
by itself ; a distinct organic community, complete within 
itself ; — having its own laws, its own rights and privileges, 



DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 199 



its own interests, its own duties. The family is, in an im- 
portant sense, iho. foundation of the state, which is a com- 
munity or society of families, gathered into one organiza- 
tion, rather than a casual combination of individuals other- 
wise isolated. At the basis of this arrangement stands 
the marriage relation, itself an institution of divine origin, 
while, at the same time, its foundation is in the constitu- 
tion of our nature. It is the origin of all the domestic 
relations, and of all civil society. The continuance and 
progress of the race fi'om age to age depends upon it. 

Kature of this Relation. — Marriage is the union for life 
of one of either sex with one of the other. It is a mutual 
compact, and a voluntary one, having for its basis, not mere 
personal respect and regard, not merely the convenience 
and interest of the parties, but mutual affection. Where 
this is wanting, with whatever forms the rite may be cele- 
brated, and whatever advantages or disadvantages it may 
ensure, it is after all but a form, a solemn mockery. 

The ground of this relation exists in the very consti- 
tution of our nature. Those natural desires and propen- 
sities which relate to the intercourse of the sexes, look 
forward to this relation as their end, and are at once regu- 
lated, refined, and chastened by it. Without such an 
influence, and such an end, these desires would constantly 
tend to the degradation of man, and the disorganization 
of society. Under the influence of the marriage relation, 
these disturbing forces are curbed and tranquillized, secu- 
rity and confidence are imparted, society is established on 
a firm basis. The parties united in this sacred relation — 
joined, not in person merely, but in heart — become one in 
all the interests and duties, the joys and the sorrows of life. 

But, while founded in the constitution of our nature, the 
relation of which I sj^eak is not the less a divine institu- 



200 DUTIES OF THE MAREIAGE RELATIOl^. 



tion. That nature is itself the work of the divine Creator, 
having reference to this end, and terminating in it. He who 
designed the constitution of the human mind, and the hu- 
man body, and jolanned all the circumstances of his earthly- 
condition, designed also that man should not live alone 
upon the earth. Hence the social nature and wants ; and 
hence marriage, which is the result of that nature, may be 
regarded as an institution of divine origin. 

But while nature lays the foundation for such an insti- 
tution, and that in accordance with the design of the 
Creator, it is still a matter to be regulated and ratified by 
l^ublic authority. The parties are not alone concerned. 
The f)ublic welfare demands that a relation of this kind 
should not be formed clandestinely, or without official 
authority and due forms of ratification. The law takes 
cognizance of this relation, prescribes the due forms and 
conditions, and concerns itself with the due observance of 
the same. This it is the i^roper business of the state to do, 
through its appointed legal authorities, in order to the 
permanence and security of the rights and interests 
involved in the new relation of the parties. 

The relation thus formed and authorized is for life. 
Only one crime — that of infidelity to the marriage bond 
— can rightfully be made the ground of separation. 

Such, in brief, is the nature of the marriage relation: 
a compact between two persons of different sex, freely and 
voluntarily formed, by the mutual consent and choice of 
each, on the ground of affection, — a union of heart and 
person and interests, authorized by due forms of law, and 
to continue while life continues. 

Different Vieios of Marriage. — The conception of the 
nature and rights of the marriage relation, and of the 
duties which it imposes, has varied in different ages and 



DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATIO^nT. 



201 



among different nations. Witli some, polygamy and con- 
cubinage have been tolerated, and divorce has been al- 
lowed on frivolous grounds. Still, the idea of complete 
and perfect marriage has, with almost all nations, been 
that now indicated, — the exclusive union of one man and 
one woman for life. 

The practice of polygamy seems to have been more or 
less prevalent in the early periods of Jewish history. Still, 
in the beginning it was not so ; but the marriage institu- 
tion, as it came fi'om the hand of God, was the union of a 
single pair, and they two were one flesh. It has been well 
remarked by Dr. Hickok, that, " If polygamy was practised 
by the patriarchs with God's permission, it still had no 
divine sanction ; God's legislation has been always against 
it, even when, for other reasons, he has not enforced it." 

By the Koman laws, polygamy was not allowed. The 
Institutes define marriage as " the union of a man and a 
woman, so as to constitute an inseparable, habitual course 
of life ; " and in the Digest it is spoken of as " partnership 
for life — the mutual particij^ation of divine and human 
rights." The law of Justinian expressly forbids having 
more than one wife. " It is not lawful to have two wives 
at the same time." Concubinage was, however, allowed. 
So, also, in the Grecian states. The heroes of Homer, it 
has been remarked, appear never to have had more than 
one spouse, — aAo^og, — while sometimes represented as 
living in concubinage. This shows that even in that early 
period and rude stage of society, the true idea of marriage 
was still entertained. 

English law regards the husband and wife as but one 
person, — the legal existence of the woman, during mar- 
riage, being incorporated in that of her husband. She can 
bring no legal claim or suit in her own name alone ; nor 
can the husband, by legal act or conveyance, grant any- 



202 DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 

thing to his wife, — she being one and the same with him- 
self in the eye of the law. Even in criminal prosecutions, 
husband and wife cannot be evidence for or against each 
other, on the ground that, according to established maxims 
of law, "no one can be a witness in his own cause," and 
"no one is bound to accuse himself." This differs from 
Koman law, in which husband and wife are two distinct 
l^ersons, and each may hold property, contract debts, etc. 

According to Roman law, Roman citizens could only 
marry Roman citizens, — union with those of other nations 
not being regarded as valid marriage. Restrictions of a 
similar nature exist, or have existed to some extent, among 
other people, limiting the marriage union to the families 
of the same nation or tribe. It is for the laws of every 
state to prescribe the limits within which marriage may 
be contracted; and in most, if not all, civilized nations, 
there are certain restrictions of this sort, as respects 
marriage within certain degrees of kindred. 

As marriage is not merely a civil but also a religious 
institution, the state is not alone concerned in its due 
observance ; hence, in the ceremonies attending its public 
authorization, civil and religious rites are usually con- 
joined. A mere legal contract does not express its true 
idea and full import. The sanctions of religion are com- 
bined with the sanctions of law, in its true and proper 
solemnization. The sentiment of duty is addressed, as 
well as the sentiment of citizenship. The custom of per- 
forming the marriage ceremony in churches, however, 
does not seem to have prevailed prior to the thirteenth 
century. 

Divorce. — Divorce, or the separation of the marriage 
union, was allowable among the Jews, under certain regu- 
lations, whenever the husband for any reason chose to put 
away his wife. Such was not the original and true design 



DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 203 



of the marriage relation, which was intended to be per- 
manent, holding the parties in union for life. It was a 
perversion of that design, tolerated, but never sanctioned 
by the Divine Law-giver. 

There were reasons for this toleration. The cruelty and 
hardness of men, the barbarism of the age, rendered 
divorce a less evil to both, when affection no longer held 
the parties in mutual regard, than would be an inseparable 
union, from which all love had fled, and in which woman, 
as the weaker and more likely to be abused, would suffer 
the greatest inconveniences and injuries. 

English law does not recognize the right of divorce. 
A special act of Parliament is necessary to provide for each 
case of the sort as it comes up. 

In our own country, the facilities and occasions for 
divorce vary in the different states ; but in all, it is to be 
feared, the tendency is to a separation of the marriage tie 
for reasons of too slight a nature. In proportion as 
divorce becomes easy, the security of the domestic rela- 
tions is impaired, and woman is degraded from her true 
position. The law of God is explicit in this matter; and 
so far as state policy departs from this rule, it defeats its 
own end, which is, the highest welfare of the body politic. 

Duties of the Marriage Relation. — Fidelity is the first 
law of the marriage state,- — the faithful observance of the 
solemn contract. This is broken by whatever is contrary 
to the law of chastity. Not merely criminal intercourse 
with other persons, but whatever weakens or destroys that 
exclusive affection on which the contract is founded, is 
really a violation of that contract. The evils resulting from 
infidelity to the marriage vow are among the greatest and 
most serious with which society is afllicted. The peace 
and harmony of the domestic relations are destroyed, 



204 DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION". 



families are broken up, the most sacred ties are severed, 
discord and misery reign where all should be happiness 
and love. Hence, in all ages, and by all laws of God and 
man, it has been treated as an aggravated and serious 
offence. By the Jewish law it was punishable with death. 

By the law of nature and of the Scriptures, the husband 
is the head of the family ; with him is vested the chief 
authority : hence the duty of respect^ and, so far as there is 
any occasion for it by reason of the conflict of opinion or 
diversity of choice, the duty also of obedience^ on the part 
of the wife. This authority, of course, gives the husband 
no right to abuse his power by acts of unkindness and 
severity, or any harshness of demeanor ; n.or, on the other 
hand, does it derogate in the least from the honor and 
dignity of woman. To submit and obey, is not more the 
sphere than the highest grace and ornament of the gentler 
sex ; as such, it is explicitly enjoined in the sacred writings. 
In ruder states of society, and in earlier ages of the world, 
as even now wherever barbarism exists, woman has been 
but the slave of man. His brute strength has prevailed 
over her weakness, and abused her gentleness and un- 
complaining, patient endurance of ills and wrongs. The 
Roman law allowed the husband to treat the wife with 
severity, and even with personal violence. But where 
Christianity comes, it elevates woman from this degraded 
position, and makes her the equal companion of the 
stronger sex; and, while it still enjoins upon her the duty 
of obedience and subjection to the husband, it clothes that 
very subjection with a dignity and beauty more attractive 
than any outward adorning. 

But, while it is the part of the gentler sex to jdeld, it is 
the part of the stronger to support, protect, and treat with 
uniform kindness and courtesy, the weaker. Strength and 
authority give the husband no right to tyrannize over the 



t 



DUTIES OF THE MARRIAGE RELATION. 



205 



wife, or manifest his power by acts of unkinclness, or any 
want of that respect and affection which are ever her due. 
He is to provide for her physical wants, her comfortable 
maintenance and support. He is to protect her, so far as 
possible, from injury and insult. He is to be her guardian 
and defender. She is to lean upon his strength, and feel 
secure, as the vine clings for support to the sturdy oak, 
whose rude, strong arms are able to defend it against the 
winds and storms. 

Nor is the relation of the wife one of entire dependence, 
but rather of reciprocal aid. She has her part to bear, 
and to perform, of the duties and struggles, the cares and 
toils of life. She is not to hang as a mere useless weight 
upon the stronger arm, but rather to stay and strengtlien 
that arm, and make it firmer and bolder for its work. 
The labors of providing for the physical wants and main- 
tenance of the household, are to be shared in common ; the 
duties of the husband lying, for the most part, in labors 
without, and those of the wife in labors performed within 
the house. In these she is to bear her part cheerfully, and 
with good courage ; and whether in wealth or in poverty, 
in sickness or in health, in comfort or in distress, — what- 
ever the varied lot of life may be, — she is in all to be a 
sharer and a helper. If the arm on whose protection and 
strength she relies is disabled and stricken down, she is, so 
far as possible, to assume the cares and duties which have 
hitherto devolved upon the stronger, — as the faithful vine 
still clings to the broken branch, — and hold up in its 
weakness that on which she has leaned for support. 

Still another duty devolves on those who sustain to each 
other the marriage relation, — that of mutual affection. 
Where this is wanting, or where, having once existed, it is 
suffei-ed to die out, the marriage tie becomes irksome, and 
that which should lend a charm to life, only adds to its 

18 



206 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 



burden. There must be respect, kindness, courtesy, honor, 
fideUty, from each to each, — these, but not these alone ; 
there must be something more than these, or the principle 
on which the marriage contract is based is wanting, and 
the contract itself becomes virtually null. Where there 
is no true affection, marriage is but a form, from which 
the soul has fled. This, then, must in truth be regarded 
as one of the first and most imperative duties of the mar- 
riage state, — to cherish each that pure and true affection 
for the other which the sacred bond implies, and which 
is essential to the happiness, if not to the continuance of 
the relation. That bond and sacred vow are in reality 
broken, let it ever be remembered, not merely by unlaw- 
ful intercourse with others, but by any neglect, unkind- 
ness, desertion, withdrawal of mutual confidence, and 
mutual regard. The want of affection is itself a violation 
of duty, and where it continues, amounts to a virtual sun- 
dering of the marriage tie. 



CHAPTER 11. 

DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 
§ I. — Duties of Parents. 

It is the duty of the parent to provide for the physical 
wants of his children, and also to educate them, in such 
a manner as shall best prepare them for the duties of 
life, and the stations which they are to occupy in society, 
and best conduce to their happiness, temporal and eternal. 
The end in view, in all family nurture and training, is, 
directly, the welfare and happiness of the child, both 



DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 207 



present and future ; indirectly, the demands of society 
and the state ; ultimately, and as inclusive of all others, 
the claims of God. 

The family, as we have already seen, is an institution 
peculiar and complete within itself — having its own laws, 
its own rights and interests, its own end. Nevertheless, it 
does not exist for itself alone. It has its relations to other 
objects and other institutions, its duties to perform, its 
office to accomplish. Prominent among these duties, and 
one chief- end for which it exists, is the training and prep- 
aration of the children for those duties which they owe to 
themselves^ to society, and to their Maker. Whatever 
tends to promote this, furthers the great design and end 
of the family as an institution ; whatever interferes with 
and prevents this, frustrates that design. 

This general object includes several specific ends or 
duties, for which the parent is responsible. 

1. Maintenance. — The duty of the parent is to sup- 
port the child during his years of minority, and provide for 
all his physical wants. Infancy and childhood are helpless 
and inexperienced, unable to provide for themselves, de- 
pendent of necessity on the watchful care and protection 
of the parent. Without that care and provision, they 
must inevitably perish, unless, indeed, some other takes 
the place of the parent. Parents are the natural guar- 
dians and providers for the wants of their children. The 
deep and strong affection which nature has implanted 
in the bosom, looks to this end, and was designed as the 
basis and security for the discharge of this important 
trust ; nor can this trust be devolved upon another, except 
in case of death or inability, without positive violation 
of dutv. 



208 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 

The manner in which this duty shall be performed, 
must depend upon the circumstances of the family, and 
the general 2^osition in life which the child may properly 
be expected to occupy. The children of the rich and the 
poor cannot be alike provided for ; the one will have more 
and better food and clothing than the other. The parent 
does his duty when he provides for the support of his chil- 
dren according to the best of his ability and judgment, 
and according to his own circumstances, l^or need he 
reproach himself, when this is done, because his limited 
means have not allowed him to bring up his children in 
that affluence which others can command ; since the sim- 
ple habits of frugality and industry, which the lessons of 
honest poverty are most likely to teach, are in themselves 
of greater value to the household, than any amount of 
wealth, or any degree of refinement. 

2. Government. — The family is a little society, a min- 
iature state ; and every society, every state, must have its 
laws, its government. The government of the family is 
entrusted to the parents, both by the nature of the case 
and by divine authority; and the faithful administration 
of this government is a duty which they owe both to the 
household, to the state, and to God. For the manner in 
which they discharge this duty, they are directly responsi- 
ble to Him who instituted the familj^ relation, and who 
placed in their charge this solemn trust. The end of the 
family institution is to train its members for the service of 
the state, and the service of God, in whatever stations 
they may hereafter be called to fill ; and both the state, 
or society in its organized capacity, and God, have a 
claim upon the parents for the faithful performance of this 
important trust. 

" The family," it has been well said, " is but a nursery 



DUTIES OF THE PAEEXTAL RELATIOX. 209 



for higher and broader spheres of action. In it are to be 
planted the seeds, and there are to be nurtured the germs, 
which are to have their full development, and bear their 
fruit, in future years, and in other worlds." 

It is not merely, then, the happiness and welfare of the 
household, as such, while gathered under one roof, — al- 
though this is in itself a most important end to be secured, 
— but it is also the welfare and highest usefulness and 
happiness of its members, when they shall be no longer 
under the sheltering roof that covered them in the happy 
days of childhood, but shall have their own part to act, 
and their own, it may be, arduous and trying duties to 
perform in the busy, toiling world, — it is this higher and 
ultimate end that is to be reached, if at all, by means of 
family government. Where this is duly administered, the 
household is trained to habits of order and obedience; 
the child grows under a system in which he learns the 
cardinal virtue of submission to authority, and is thus 
fitted to become a useful member of society. Where, on 
the contrary, parental government is not enforced, the 
lessons of obedience are not learned, and the child goes 
forth into society, unused to the wholesome restraints of 
law, untaught to submit to the will and authority of those 
whose right it is to govern, unfitted for the responsible 
duties of the citizen ; in many respects, a useless, if not 
positively dangerous member of the community. 

To wliom entrusted. — The duty of maintaining author- 
ity, and administering the government of the household, 
is, by the law of nature, and the relation of the parties, 
entrusted to the parents. It is their province and right 
to govern — the province and duty of the child to obey. 
This is a divine arrangement, the foundation of which lies 
in the constitution of our nature. It is not a merely 

J8* 



210 DUTIES or THE PAREiq^TAL RELATIOI^. 

arbitrary and conventional arrangement, but the design 
and law of the Creator. 'No duty is more clearly enjoined 
in the Scrii^tures, and none entails a severer penalty on 
those who neglect and violate it. 

The parent is not, however, to use this authority as 
abusing it. He is not to govern, merely for the sake and 
from the love of governing, in an arbitrary and unreason- 
able manner. He is ever to keep in mind the end of dis- 
cipline, as already pointed out ; that is, the highest welfare 
and hap23iness of all the members of the household. As 
a safeguard against abuse. Providence has wisely thrown 
around this delegated authority the restraints of parental 
affection. The power to govern is lodged in safe hands ; 
the heart of the parent pleads for mercy, while his sense 
of justice demands the punishment of the offender. 

As the parties united in marriage are one, the authority 
of the parents is a joint and concurrent authority; and 
inasmuch as the end of all family discipline is one of com- 
mon interest to both the parents, there can, ordinarily, be 
little danger of any conflict of views or interests in its 
administration. Should such difference arise, as there 
must be some ultimate appeal, the supreme authority rests, 
by common consent, by the nature of the case, and by the 
laws of the land, with the father, as the rightful head of 
the family, and source of ultimate authority. 

3. Education. — The duty of the parent is not entirely 
discharged when provision has been made for the physical 
wants of the household, and for its due government. The 
child is not only to be fed, and clothed, and governed, but 
suitably educated; and this education must have reference 
to tlie whole development and training, both physical and 
mo7'a\ as well as intellectual. 



DUTIES OF THE- PARENTAL RELATION. 211 



Physical Culture. — It must have reference to the 
physical training. A good physical constitution is one 
of the greatest earthly advantages ; and this, so far as it 
depends on any care and skill of treatment after birth, 
is to be secured by every means in the power of the par- 
ent. Parental ignorance and negligence have, doubtless, 
much to do with the feeble health, the broken constitu- 
tion, the life of suffering, and the premature decay and 
death, of many a household. The physical culture, the 
health and strength of the child, is the first and most 
important object to be attained ; and due attention to 
this object is the first and most imperative of parental 
duties. Care must be taken to regulate the food, the 
dress, the exercise, the hours of rest, the entire habits of 
life, as affecting the physical constitution ; to avoid all 
such indulgence on the one hand, and all such hardship 
and exposure on the other, as shall endanger the health, 
or injure the constitution of the child. For all this the 
parent is responsible ; and if, by carelessness, neglect, or 
want of skill, he foils in the performance of his duty, not 
himself only, not the child only, nor the family only, but 
other and wider interests receive an injury; society suf- 
fers, the state is a loser, and claims still higher than these 
are forgotten. As regards both the service of the state, 
and the service of God, the true end of family culture 
looks, first of all, at the physical health and vigor, — aims to 
secure that, — and fiiils of its grand and ulterior designs 
very much in proportion as it foils in that. If that is 
overlooked ; if, by neglect, or mistaken indulgence, habits 
unfovorable to health and manly development are formed ; 
if, as sometimes happens, the selfishness and avarice of 
the parent lead him to expose his child to an amount of 
toil and hardship unsuited to its tender years, — then, 
whatever suffering may ensue, whatever loss to the child 



212 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 

in subsequent years of life, whatever to society, and to the 
cause of God, the responsibility and the guilt must rest 
with fearful weight upon that negligent, that indulgent, 
or that selfish parent. 

Intellectual Culture. — The intellect^ also, is to receive 
its education. The germs of whatever power and great- 
ness it may afterward attain, lie in the mind at the out- 
set; they are to be developed and nurtured by careful 
and skilful training. The intellect comes to maturity, 
and possession of its own proper strength, only by cul- 
ture and discipline. Left in ignorance, its faculties im- 
perfectly unfolded and developed, its condition will inev- 
itably be that of weakness and imbecility, as compared 
with what it might be, and was designed to be. 

A thorough education, if not invaluable, is, at least, of 
higher value to the child than any amount of treasure, 
or any position in society which mere wealth or the acci- 
dent of birth can command. It is itself the highest for- 
tune, the richest treasure. He who has it cannot well be 
poor; he who is destitute of it, whatever else he may 
have, cannot be truly rich. The parent has no right to 
send his child out into the world uneducated, and, in con- 
sequence, unfitted for the highest duties of life. 

The process of education, wisely and well conducted, 
will always have regard to two things, — the habits and 
mental peculiarities of the child, and also the condition 
and station in life for which it is to be fitted. If either 
of these is overlooked, the great end of education — that 
is, the highest happiness and usefulness of the child in 
future life — w^ill not be attained. 

The care of this mental training, at first devolving 
chiefly on the parents, may, as the child progresses, be in 
part, but never wholly^ transferred to other teachers ; never 
so transferred as that the parent shall be no longer respon- 



DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 213 

sible for the manner in which the process is conducted, 
and for its ultimate success or failure. No pressure of 
other duties can atone for any neglect of this; nor can 
any fidelity and skill of the teacher compensate for the 
want of that time and attention which the parent should 
still bestow on the intellectual culture and progress of 
the child, and which are indispensable to the most suc- 
cessful results. 

Moral Culture. — l^ox is the moral education of the 
child to be overlooked. The manners, the disposition, 
the heart, the religious belief, are matters requiring care- 
ful attention and culture. If the mind is to be educated, 
not less the heart. Eternal destinies, and not merely the 
present welfare and happiness of the child, depend on the 
manner in which this part of his education is conducted. 
Those destinies of the future are in an important sense 
entrusted to the decision of the parent. He is to educate 
and train the child, not merely for honor and usefulness 
on earth, but for immortality and eternal life ; not merely 
to be a valuable member of society, but a citizen of the 
heavenly kingdom, and a partaker of the heavenly felicity. 
This duty neglected, all is neglected ; this lost, all is lost. 

The moral education includes not merely the culture of 
religious feeling toward God, as the direct object of ado- 
ration and love, but of all morally right feeling and action 
— of all that is pure, and lovely, and of good report. It 
includes the checking and restraining of all the evil desires 
and propensities of the child's nature; the development 
and careful fostering of all generous, pure, noble senti- 
ments and principles of action; the vigilant guarding 
against all evil and seductive influences to which the in- 
experience of childhood and youth may be exposed, and 
by which it may so easily be led astray. It includes pre- 
cept; it includes example, without which precept will 



214 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION-. 



avail nothing. It includes the thousand influences of a 
well-ordered religious home, constantly, and to himself 
perhaps unconsciously, surrounding the child, and as by 
silken threads leading him in the way that he should go. 
Happy the child that is thus led; happy the home to 
which that child belongs, and in which such influences 
dwell. 

§ n. — Duties op Children. 

The duties of the parent and of the child are, for the 
most part, reciprocal — the obligation resting upon the 
one necessarily implying a corresponding obligation on 
the part of the other. The obligation of the parent to 
govern, implies the duty of the child to obey; the obli- 
gation of the parent to educate, involves the duty of the 
child to yield to and be guided by this care and culture. 

There are also duties arising from the relation in which 
the parties stand. The superior wisdom and intelligence 
of the parent, no less than his authority, demand respect 
and reverence from the child. The care and love which 
have watched over the helplessness of childhood, and 
provided for its wants, and sacrificed much for its good, 
demand in return filial gratitude and afiection. These, 
then, as determined by the nature of the case, are the 
principal duties of the child toward the parent, viz., obe- 
dience^ docility^ reverence^ filial affection. 

1. Obedience. — It is the duty of the child to yield un- 
reserved and unquestioned obedience to the authority and 
commands of the parent ; and this obedience must be irre- 
spective of the why and wherefore of the command, of 
the wisdom and necessity of the course prescribed; it 
must be rendered as obedience to authority, and to the 



DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 215 



will of the parent, because it is his will. In no other wny 
can the end of family government be attained, the peace 
and order of tlie household be promoted, the welfare of 
•the child secured. 

The duty of obedience is manifest not only from the 
nature of the case, and from the end of family government, 
but from the word of God. No duty is more explicitly 
and emphatically enjoined in the Scriptures than this: 
" Children, obey your parents in the Lord ; for this is right " 
(Eph. vi. 1). And again, "Children, obey your parents in 
all things ; for this is well-pleasing unto the Lord " (Col. 
iii. 20). To disobey the commands of the parent, is, then, 
to be guilty of a double crime : it is to violate at once 
the law of the household, and the law of God. 

Limit of Authority. — But here an important question 
arises, respecting the limits of parental authority. Are 
there any limits? Is the child under obligation to yield 
obedience to any and all commands of the parent, ichat- 
ever they may he? Suppose the parent order him to do 
that w^hich is manifestly wrong, as, to break the Sabbath, 
or to steal, or to lie, or in any manner to break the laws 
of the state, or the laws of God ; is he then to obey ? 

I reply, by no means. The parent has no right to give 
such commands, and, therefore, they are not binding on 
the conscience of the child. Whenever the child is ordered 
to do that which he knows and fully believes to be wrong, 
he is under no obligation to obey ; nay, he has no right to 
obey. When the law of the parent comes into conflict 
manifestly and directly with the law of the state, or with 
the law of God, these, which are higher laws, must be 
obeyed. The authority of the state is above that of the 
parent ; and the authority of the Supreme and Almighty 
Ruler is above both. The child must do right, and suffer 
the consequences ; the responsibility rests with the parent. 



216 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 



When there is any doubt as to the real character of the act 
required, — any uncertainty whether it is, in fact, a wrong 
act, and in conflict with the divine commands, — it seems 
to me that the authority of the parent should in all such • 
cases be held as decisive, until at least clearer light can be 
obtained as to the path of duty. Under ordinary circum- 
stances, the parent, from his superior intelligence, and 
greater experience, is certainly more likely to know what 
is right and proper than the child ; hence, in matters of 
doubtful character, it is safer to follow the decisions of the 
parent, even at the risk of doing wrong, than to incur the 
at least equal risk of doing wrong by disobedience. 

2. Docility. — As the duty of the parent is to teach, to 
educate, so the duty of the child is to learn. It is for him 
to yield, with docile spirit, to the culture and training 
which the parent sees fit to adopt. In jDhysical nature, and 
mental discipline ; in the education of the manners and the 
heart; in all that pertains to the culture, in its highest and 
most comprehensive sense, of body, mind, and soul, — the 
child is to hold himself ready, within those limits already 
si3ecified, to be instructed, moulded, trained, by parental 
wisdom and care. In fault of this, all efforts of instruction 
will be unavailing, and the great end of family nurture and 
discipline will be unattained. A stubborn and unyielding 
spirit, that sets itself in opposition to the wisdom and the 
counsels of the parent, and refuses to be guided thereby, 
is in itself a sin most deserving of rebuke, and which in- 
curs, wherever found, the special displeasure of God. Very 
marked is the condemnation bestowed upon this sin in the 
Scriptures. Under the Jewish law, it was even punishable 
with death. "If a man have a stubborn and rebellious 
son, which will not obey the voice of his father, or the 
voice of his mother, and that, when they have chastened 



DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 217 



hiin, will not hearken to tbera: then shall his father and 
his mother lay hold on him, and bring him out unto the 
elders of his city, and unto the gate of his place ; and they 
shall say unto the eiders of his city, this our son is stub- 
born and rebellious, he will not obey our voice ; he is a 
glutton and a drunkard. And all the men of his city shall 
stone him with stones that he die ; so shalt thou put evil 
away from among you, and all Israel shall hear and fear" 
(Deut. xxi. 18—21). 

Very full and explicit are the precepts which incuh ^ ; 
the duty ot cherishing the opposite spirit. "My son, keep 
the instruction of thy father, and forsake not the law of 
thy mother. They shall be an ornament of grace unto thy 
head, and chains about thy neck" (Prov. i. 8, 9). "Keej^ 
thy father's commandments, and forsake not the law of 
thy mother" (Prov. vi. 20). "A fool despiseth his father's 
instructions" (Prov. xv. 5). "A wise son heareth his 
fither's instructions, but a scorner heareth not rebuke" 
(Prov. xiii. 1). 

3. Reverence. — It is the duty of the child to treat his 
parents with that deference and respect that belong to 
those who are his superiors in age and wisdom, as well as 
in authority. Nothing is more unbecoming in a child 
than any want of respect toward his superiors, and espe- 
cially toward his parents. They sustain to him a relation 
which peculiarly demands of him this deferential regard. 
They are the authors of his life. To them he is indebted 
for the care and attention which have watched over him 
from infancy, provided for his wants, directed his educa- 
tion. To them he is rightfully subject by the laws of God 
and man ; and to those sustaining to him this relation, and 
exercising this authority, he is bound, by the laws of nature 

19 



218 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 

and reason, to yield a respect and reverence which are due 
to no one else on the earth. 

Nor is this claim abrogated by any rank or attainments 
on the part of the child, or by any deficiency of intellectual, 
social, or even moral worth and rank, on the part of the 
parent. These circumstances alter not the relation of the 
two parties. The child, as he grows to maturity, may come 
to be wiser, wealthier, more distinguished, more virtuous 
even, than those who gave him birth, and brought him 
up from infancy to youth and manhood. He is not, on 
these accounts, excused from paying to them, so long as he 
lives, and they live, that respect and reverence which are 
still their due, and which every generous and manly spirit 
will esteem it a delight and an honor to show. 

The end of the family institution, so far as the child is 
concerned, is to fit him for the service of the state, and 
the service of his God; to be an honorable and useful 
member of society, and a candidate for immortal blessed- 
ness. In no way is this end more surely defeated, than by 
the want of due respect toward the parents; in no way 
more directly promoted, than by the careful observance of 
this duty. He who has not learned, or who has scorned 
to pay due respect and reverence to his parents, will not 
be likely to bow with submission and reverence before the 
majesty of the law. He who is wanting in deference to his 
earthly superiors and protectors, will not be likely to yield 
the homage of the heart to his heavenly Father, or to 
humble himself, in adoration and lowliness of mind, before 
the Majesty of heaven and earth. He is poorly fitted for 
the duties of life, for the service of the state, and the ser- 
vice of his God, who knows not how to honor his parents. 

Nothing is more graceful and fitting, nothing more hon- 
orable and ennobliug to the character, than the exercise 
of this virtue ; nothing, on the other hand, more unseemly, 



DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 219 



and dishonorable, than the opposite vice. The blessing of 
God attends the one; his frown and curse, the other. 

Honor thy father and thy mother — which is the first 
commandment with promise — that it may be w^ell with 
thee, and thou mayest live long on the earth" (Eph. vi. 2, 
referring to Ex. xx. 12). "Cursed be he that setteth light 
by his father or his mother ; and all the people shall say, 
Amen" (Deut. xxvii. 16). And yet again: "The eye that 
mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, 
the ravens of the valley shall pluck it out, and the young 
eagles shall eat it" (Pro v. xxx. 17). 

4. Filial Affectioi^ and Gratitude. — The duties 
which have already been named are incomplete without this. 
Those offices are to be performed not merely as duties, and 
because they are required by the laws and customs of soci- 
ety, by self-respect, and by the divine command, but from 
a higher principle than the single sense of duty, — from 
love, the pure affection and deep gratitude of the heart. 
The relation in which our parents stand to us, entitles 
them to our sincere affection and gratitude. To no human 
beings are we so much indebted as to them. They have 
given us being; they have provided for our physical 
wants ; have fed and clothed us ; have watched our steps 
by day, and our slumbers by night ; have denied themselves, 
that they might make better provision for us ; have edu- 
cated us in whatever of useful learning and of good man- 
ners we have acquired ; have done what they could — it is 
to be hoped — to train us for usefulness and happiness 
here and hereafter. As we grow up, we may possibly per- 
ceive faults of character in them, — faults, perhaps, in their 
mode of educating and governing us ; but no such defects, 
whether real or imagined, can ever discharge the obligation 
on our part of true and earnest gratitude and love. 



220 DUTIES OF THE PARENTAL RELATION. 



The cliaracter that is wanting in this, is wanting in all 
that is manly and noble. The heart that lacks this emo- 
tion, is essentially a mean and selfish heail. 

ISoY is this duty one that ceases to be requii'ed of ns as 
we come ourselves to manhood. Time, in its never-ceasing 
progress, reverses the order in which life began : the child 
becomes a j^arent, and the parent by-and-by becomes 
again a child. The arms that held us in infancy, require 
now the strength of our more robust and vigorous forms ; 
the hands that toiled and the feet that moved so readily 
for all our wants, must now depend on ns for support. By 
every little act of kindness and attention, by all the sweet 
and soothing ministry of love, it is for us to discharge that 
debt. Happy for us, if, over tlie grave of a parent, we 
never have occasion to droj) a tear of regrei that we were 
in any measure negligent of this sacred duty. 



PART lY. 



DUTIES TO THE STATE. 



CHAPTER I. 

NATURE AND FOUNDATION OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 

It has already been remarked that there exist in the 
world two great and distinct institutions, — the Family 
and the State, — having each its own organization, its own 
laws, its own object, its own proper duties. Of these, the 
former has already occupied our attention, and we approach 
now the consideration of the latter. 

The State what. — In order to clearness, we must as- 
certain precisely what is meant by the state. I under- 
stand by the state, a community organized under one form 
or system of government, and dwelling together, under 
that government, in one and the same territory. Those 
thus associated for purposes of government, compose the 
state. 

The word is frequently employed in a somewhat differ- 
ent sense from that now given, — sometimes, to denote the 
idea of civil government in the abstract, without reference 
to the aggregate of individuals that compose the state; 
sometimes, also, to denote the power that exercises author- 
ity and administers law in the community thus organized 

19* 



222 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



— as when Louis Fourteenth of France declared, " I am the 
state." 

The true idea, however, of the state, I take to be that 
ah'eady given. When we speak of the family, or of the 
state, as institutions, we do indeed use those terms ab- 
stractly; but when we come to define more fully our 
meaning, we say, the family is a little community, consist- 
ing of those related by ties of marriage and consanguinity, 
dwelling under one roof, and holding property in com- 
mon ; and, in like manner, we say, the state is a larger 
community, organized under one form of government, and 
dwelling together in the same country or territory. 

Not every Comonimity a State. — It is not every and 
any community, or company of men, that constitutes a 
state, even though they may inhabit the same territory. 
They must be an organized community, and that for the 
purpose of government — a united whole, bound together 
by one and the same system of civil administration. A 
herd of wild beasts roaming together over the western 
prairies is a community ; a horde of savages, scarcely less 
wild and lawless, may dwell together without the forms 
of civilized society ; but neither of these communities is a 
state. Those who came over in the pilgrim bark, the 
May-Flower, were a community, united in one and the 
same great enterprise, yet only a collection of separate 
families and individuals, and nothing more, until, in the 
cabin of that little vessel, there was drawn up the instru- 
ment that constituted them an organized community, and 
prescribed the form of their future government ; that in- 
strument drawn and signed, they became from that moment 
a state. 

It will be to our purpose, in the further discussion of the 
subject proposed for consideration in the present chapter. 



or CIYIL GOVERNMENT. 



223 



to inquire as to the origin and object of civil government 
— how snch an institution ever came to be, and for what 
ends designed ; also, as to the fou?idatio7i on which it 
rests — whence comes its authority. These topics will be 
discussed in the following sections. 

§ I. — Okigix axd Object of Civil Govesnment. 

Oeigij^t of Civil Goveenment. — If we inquire for the 
origin of this institution, — the manner in which such a thing 
as the state, or civil government, came to be, — we must go 
back, doubtless, to a very early period of civilization — to 
the first rude beginnings of human history. The germ of 
civil authority lies, if I mistake not, in the family; the 
members of which, united by closest ties of sympathy and 
common interest, are subject to the parental authority and 
control. This is the first form of obedience, and the first 
kind of government. "A family," it is well said by Paley, 
"contains the rudiments of an empire. The authority of 
one over many, and the disposition to govern and to be 
governed, are in this way incidental to the very nature, 
and coeval, no doubt, with the existence of the human 
species." 

It is easy to see how, from this simple beginning, the 
principle of civil government, taking its rise, may have ex- 
tended, till, as now, it embraces nations and centuries in 
its sweep. The respect and homage due to the wisdom 
and authority of the parent, do not cease when the children 
approach the maturity of riper years. Around the tent of 
the father gather, in process of time, the tents of the chil- 
dren ; the government of the family becomes gradually the 
government of many families, all united by ties of consan- 
guinity and common origin, all owing and owning allegi- 
ance to a common ancestor. The general direction and 



224 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



control of the little community, thus enlarged by succes- 
sive generations, would, by common consent, be vested in 
the hands of that aged and honored ancestor, the patriarch 
of the flock, the chief of the tribe. And thus we have the 
second step in the formation of civil government. 

The rapid increase of such a community would enlarge 
the boundaries of the original dominion, until, in course of 
time, the chief or patriarch of the tribe becomes the ruler 
of the nation. Large communities and emj^ires would 
grow out of small ones, not only by the laws of natural 
growth, and increase of population, but by accessions of 
smaller and weaker tribes forming alliance with the 
stronger, for purj^oses of mutual advantage. 

The patriarch of the tribe, or chief of the clan, would be 
likely to gather about him many followers, in the capacity 
of servants and retainers, dependent on his bounty, and 
obedient to his command. Possessions, also, of land, cat- 
tle, jewels, and other treasures, would accumulate in his 
keeping. To the aristocracy and influence of birth there 
would An this way be added the authority which wealth 
bestows. In process of time, as the wealth of the tribe in- 
creased, and its numbers augmented, the temptation would 
be felt to employ these resources in the subjugation of 
neighboring and weaker tribes. The chief who should 
thus employ his personal wealth and followers to enlarge 
the boundaries, and extend the power of his tribe, would 
add not only to the authority of his clan, but to his own 
power as ruler ; and so to the aristocracy of birth and 
of wealth would be added that of military prowess. This 
latter, in process of time, and of human afiairs, might come 
to be of more consequence than either of the former as an 
element of sovereignty. 

It is easy to see how, in the natural course of things, 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



225 



these causes, combined, or even singly, would lead to the 
formation of great and powerful empires, from such small 
beginnings as we have indicated. And it is easy also to see 
how, starting with the idea of paternal government as its 
source and germ, — that is, of a power lodged in the hands 
of one^ to be administered at his discretion, — the form of 
civil government should have been, in theory and in f ict, 
essentially the power and authority of one over the whole ; 
that is, monarchical. 

Whatever theory we adopt as the foundation of civil 
government, — whether we regard it as of direct divine au- 
thority, or as founded in social compact, or in the nature 
of man, — there can be little doubt that, as a matter of his- 
tory, its origin and progress have been essentially what I 
have now indicated. 

Object of Civil Goveeistment. — Viewing civil govern- 
ment as an existing institution, we may naturally ask what 
is the end or object which it proposes to accomplish ; what 
is the use, the advantage, the necessity for anything of the 
sort; why should not every man be his own ruler and 
sovereign ? 

The sovereignty of the individual, I reply, would be 
inconsistent with the rights and freedom of the whole. 
Every member of the community has an interest in the 
conduct of every other member. Every man is a com- 
posite element of the whole, and is bound to consult the 
interests and wishes of the whole. If he were to have his 
own way, and consult only his own pleasure in everything, 
his choice would often interfere with that of others, and 
thus would result a conflict of choices; and not only 
would injustice thus be done, often, to the weaker of two 
parties, but the general peace and order of the whole 



226 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



would be disturbed. " The freedom of the individual," 
it has been well said, " is the bondage of the community." 

Objection. — But will not the same thing occur if gov- 
ernment exists? it may be asked. Will that insure to 
every man his choice? Will not government itself inter- 
fere with the choice of the individual, and restrain his 
freedom? So far as that freedom interferes with the 
general fi-eedom and the general order, I reply, it will 
doubtless be restrained under any system of wise and 
efficient government; and so far as this, it 7ieeds to be 
restrained. In the nature of things, not every man can 
have his choice. The nearest ai^proximation to this is, 
that the choice of the greatest number shall prevail; in 
other words, that the will of tlie majority shall govern. 

In proportion as any government carries out the will of 
the majority, and legislates for the good of tlie whole, it 
accomplishes the great end of all civil government; and in 
so far as it loses sight of this, or fails of this, it fails of 
reaching that end. 

Suppose, now, that, under existing government, an indi- 
vidual finds himself ill-suited, — his choices interfered 
with, his wishes disregarded, his rights taken from him, — 
what redress, it may be asked, remains for such a one? 
I reply : there will at least remain one resom-ce, after all 
others have been tried in vain. If he finds it impossible 
to obtain justice, and to enjoy his rights in the community 
where he is, let him peaceably withdraw from it, and join 
some other which he likes better ; or, if none such can be 
found, it is in his power to cut himself off entirely from 
his fellow-men, and live in a desert or a cave. It may be 
a hardship to do this ; but it were better that a few should 
suffer hardship and loss, than that the many should be 
exposed to the dangers of lawlessness and anarchy. 



or CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



227 



Ends to he secured. — There are two leading objects 
ever to be kept in view and secured by civil government 
— public order and ^v^yYio, freedom; — the former for the 
sake of the latter, and the latter in the greatest degree 
tliat is compatible with the former. These ends will be 
most effectually secm-ed in connection with the highest 
civilization and most rapid progress of the state. • What- 
ever promotes the one, promotes also the other. While, 
therefore, the state may not propose to itself, directly, as 
an end, the moral and religious culture and character of 
its citizens, it may, and. must, aim to secure this as a means^ 
and a necessary means, to the end which it legitimately 
pursues, viz., the public 'order and freedom. Virtue and 
religion are indispensable to the highest civilization and 
elevation of the people, and so to the public welfare, and 
cannot therefore be overlooked by any wise and intelligent 
government. 

These not the only Objects of Civil Government. — I 
have spoken of order and freedom as leading objects to be 
secured by civil government ; I would not affirm that they 
are the only objects for which government exists. It is 
possible, certainly, to conceive of a state of society in which 
every man should be upright and honest; in which the 
most perfect order should be realized ; in which there 
should be, therefore, no crimes to punish, no lawlessness to 
rebuke, no irregularity or disorder to provide against. In 
such a community, as there would be the most perfect 
order, so also there would be the highest possible degree 
of public freedom ; consequently, there would be no need 
of government for these ends. If these were the only 
objects for which civil government exists, then there would 
be no need of government at all. 

Yet, even in such a community, there would still be 



228 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



something for government to do. Its occasion and its 
proper functions would not wholly cease. There are 
certain matters of public utility and convenience — as, for 
example, the coining of money, the making of roads, the 
disposal of projDcrty left without heirs, the regulation of 
commerce and of intercourse with other countries — which 
could not well be arranged without the existence of some 
form of government. In such matters, it would be neces- 
sary that some persons should be authorized to act in 
behalf of the whole ; and such authority would constitute, 
in fact, a government. 

§ n. — Foundation or Civil Government. 

Having considered, in the preceding section, the origin 
and object of civil government, we are prepared now to 
inquire as to its foundation. On what does this institution 
rest as its basis and support ? Whence does it derive its 
authority? How comes government, in the person of 
magistrate, legislator, judge, and in the form of law, writ- 
ten or unwritten, to have power over me, to restrain and 
govern my conduct, — a power extending to my person, 
my property, and even my life? What right has it to do 
this, and whence does it obtain this right? Suppose I 
should deny this right, and refuse this control — what then? 

Theory of Divine Might. — There have been various 
theories respecting this matter. According to some, civil 
government is founded in the will of God: it rests on 
the basis of a divine right. This theory supposes that 
civil government is an ordinance of God ; that as marriage 
and the family relation were of direct divine appoint- 
ment, so likewise the state ; and that as we had no agency 
in instituting, so we have no choice in submitting to either 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



229 



of these arrangements, and no right to alter or dispense 
with either, but must take both as established facts, — part 
of the scheme of Providence and of the divine order of 
things, to which it is the duty of all men to conform. 
We are under government, and we must obey it, for the 
same reason that it is our duty to obey God in anything 
else that he may prescribe for us ; and this obedience must 
be without hesitation or question. 

This view derives support from the fact that civil gov- 
ernment originates, as we have seen, from the family in- 
stitution, — having its root there, and jDrogressing, by slow 
and natural degrees, to its full and mature development. 
Now, unquestionably, the family is an institution of divine 
appointment, — a fact which exists by special arrangement 
and design of Providence. The paternal government is 
one under which we find ourselves on comino- into the 
world, and which, whether we will or not, we are obliged 
to obey. And as, out of this existing fact, this authority 
independent of our will, civil government takes its rise, 
and by natural stages grows to be what it is, the inference 
seems plausible, that this also, like that from which it 
proceeds, is of special divine authority. 

Faleifs Vieia. — A modified form of this theory was 
advanced by Dr. Paley, wlio bases the obligation to obey 
civil government on the loill of God as collected from 
e'xpediency. This view differs from the preceding, chiefly 
in that it assigns a reason for the will of God being what 
it is, viz., the expediency or advantage of such an institu- 
tion to human welfare and happiness ; whereas the former, 
somewhat more arbitrarily, refers the whole matter to the 
divine will, and leaves it there, without explanation or 
reason. 

The argument of Paley is summed up, by himself, in 
the following propositions : " It is the will of God that 

20 



230 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



the hap23iness of human life be promoted." " Civil society 
conduces to that end." "Civil societies cannot be up- 
hold en, unless in each the interest of the whole society 
be binding ujDon every part and member of it." Hence 
the conclusion, " that so long as the interest of the whole 
society requires it, — that is, so long as the established gov- 
ernment cannot be resisted or changed without public in- 
convenience, — it is the will of God (which will universally 
determines our duty) that the established government be 
obeyed, and no longer." The argument is, not that gov- 
ernment is ex23edient, and therefore we must obey; but 
that it is expedient, and therefore it is the will of God; 
and because it is his will, therefore we must obey. 

Theory of Social Nature. — Dissatisfied with this man- 
ner of exj^laining the subject, others have taken a differ- 
ent view of the matter, and have sought the foundation 
of government in the moral and social nature of man. 
It is no longer, according to this view, the arbitrary and 
sovereign will of God, nor yet that will as governed by a 
regard to exj^ediency, but rather the nature and con- 
stitution of man, that is the basis on which civil govern- 
ment reposes. That nature fits him for, and leads him 
to adopt such an arrangement. It is his own institution, 
his own choice, his instinctive, natural preference. He 
frames laws, and appoints rulers, and submits himself to 
the control of those laws and those magistrates, on the 
same principle that the bee and other insects observe a 
certain order in the arrangement of their social affairs, 
and maintain a certain government, following the direc- 
tion of their leader, because such is their nature. In like 
manner, the nature and constitution of man fit him to be 
a member of society and of the state, even as they fit 
him to be a member of the family. He adopts this 
method, and continues it, not because he finds these in- 



OF CIVIL GOVERXMEXT. 231 

w 

stitutions ready made, and imposed on liim by the will 
of the Creator, arbitrary or otherwise, without choice of 
his own, but because he finds them exactly suited to his 
nature and wants. This theory was held by many of the 
ancient j^hilosophers. It was the view maintained by 
Plato and Aristotle, among the Greeks. Aristotle calls 
man ttoKitikov Za)ov — a political animal. 

Theory of Social Compact. — There is still another 
theory of government, differing in some important re- 
spects from either of those already mentioned, — a view 
advocated by many distinguished m'iters, and, indeed, 
the prevalent one of modern times ; I refer to the theory 
of social compact^ as it is called. This ™w — advanced 
by Hobbes, adopted by several subsequent philosophers 
of note in England, and on the continent, by Shaftesbury, 
and essentially by Locke and his disciples — has come to 
be, if I mistake not, the prevalent view, both in England 
and our own country, and has been widely adopted by 
jurists and members of the legal profession, as the prin- 
ciple on which civil government is supposed to rest. Ac- 
cording to this theory, civil government is of the nature 
of a contract between man and man, in which each binds 
himself to fulfill certain conditions, and abide by certain 
rules, mutually agreed upon ; which rules and conditions 
are binding so long as the contract stands. To these con- 
ditions it is the duty of every member of society to con- 
form, for the same reason that it is his duty to abide by 
any other obhgation or contract, or to keep any other 
engagement. 

Those who enter into this arrangement — and every 
one who lives in society, and enjoys its advantages, vir- 
tually and tacitly gives his consent and adherence to the 
arrangement — mutually agree to relinquish each certain 



232 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



individual and natural rights into the keej)ing of the whole, 
and for the benefit of the whole ; in return for which, they 
are to receive certain privileges, and be guarded and pro- 
tected in the full enjoyment of all their rights, personal and 
civil. It is for the advantage of each to abide by these 
rules, and that others should do the same ; hence the insti- 
tution exists, and is continued from age to age. 

Objections to this Theory. — The view now proposed 
is by no means free from objections. If civil government 
rests upon a compact, — a mutual agreement, or engage- 
ment, formed among men, — then when, and where, and 
by whom, was this agreement made ? Where are the 
records, and what the history of the transaction? "No 
social compact similar to what is here described," says 
'Paley, "was ever made or entered into in reality; no 
such original convention of the people was ever actually 
holden, or in any country could be holden, antecedent 
to the history of civil government in that country.' It 
is to suppose it possible to call savages out of caves and 
deserts to deliberate and vote upon topics which the 
experience and studies and refinements of civil life alone 
suggest. Therefore no government in the universe began 
from this original." 

To this it may be replied, that the question is not now 
as to the origin of civil government — how it began — but 
as to its basis — on what it rests — what is the ground of 
the relation which we find existing between the citizen 
and the state, the governed and the governors. It is no 
answer to the theory under consideration, to say that no 
government ever began in that way. The question is not 
how and when it began, but, having a beginning and ex- 
istence, as a matter of fact, does it, or does it not, rest 
upon the consent of the governed ; is it, or is it not, of 
the nature of a contract ? 



OF CIVIL 



GOYERNMEXT. 



233 



Kor is it enough to say that no record of any such 
transaction exists — that no such contract in reahty was 
ever made. Even if this were true, — which is by no means 
certain, — it might be none the less true that the existing 
governments are really of the nature of a contract or 
agreement among the jDCople, that they virtually rest ujDon 
no other basis than the consent of the parties governed, 
even though we cannot point to any formal engagement 
to that effect, drawn up in so many words, and at such a 
time and place. Whether we can point to such original 
transaction or not, the real nature of the bond that holds 
society together as an organized body, may be precisely 
that of a mutual contract ; and it may be very important 
for us to know, and to admit this truth. Xo other form 
of expression may so well and truly indicate the precise 
relations which exist between the different members of 
the body jDolitic, and the reciprocal rights and duties of 
each, as that now in question. 

Further Reply. — It is by no means to be conceded, 
however, that there is not in existence, as a matter of flict, 
any such contract or mutual agreement as we are now 
speaking of It is not a mere figment of the imagination, 
but a historic reality. There are, at least in every civil- 
ized nation, certain fundamental principles of law, and 
of civil polity, which, whether written or unwritten, are 
acknowledged, and acted upon, as the basis of all civil 
administration of affairs. These, modified from time to 
time, and gathered at last into complete form, compose 
constitution of the country, or the state. This con- 
stitution is an existing historic fact, and the fundamental 
principles which compose it existed in the public mind, 
and were acknowledged as such, long before they were 
collected into one body, reduced to form, and adopted as 

20* 



234 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



a constitution. These principles and maxims, written or 
unwritten, are the terms of the social compact ; and when, 
in the process of time, out of these j^i'inciiDles, the consti- 
tution, as such, takes its distinct, manifest shape and form, 
that is the written, formal contract, by which all par- 
ties in the state agree to abide. As such it is regarded 
and treated by business-men, jurists, statesmen, lawyers — 
all, in fact, who have to do with affairs of state, whether 
in theory or practice. 

The constitutions of the several states of this republic 
are such compacts ; they recognize themselves as such, 
and contain in themselves the articles of comjDact. Thus 
the constitution of Massachusetts : " The body politic is 
formed by a voluntary association of individuals. It is a 
Social Compact^ by which the whole people covenants 
with each citizen, and each citizen with the whole peo- 
ple, that all shall be governed by certain laws for the 
common good." The constitution of Connecticut recog- 
nizes the same principle : " All men, when they form a 
social compact, are equal in rights." So, also, the opening 
words of the constitution of i^'ew Jersey: "All the con- 
stitutional authority ever possessed by the kings of Great 
Britain over their dominions, was by compact derived 
from the people, and held of them for the common in- 
terest of the whole society." Nor is this use of lan- 
guage unauthorized ; for the vote of the English Parlia- 
ment which deposed James the Second, charges him with 
having broken the original compact between king and 
jDeople. 

It is not true, then, that no such thing as a social con- 
tract exists in reality. Every state constitution, whether 
more or less comj^lete and formal, is, in fact, such an instru- 
ment; all its articles are articles of mutual agreement; and 
all those fundamental principles and maxims, of which it 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 235 

is the collection and embodiment, are, and were before 
they were thus collected, and while as yet they lay unex- 
pressed in the common mind, a virtual compact, having 
for its object the defining and securing to every one his 
rights. 

Another Ohjection. — It is also objected, by Dr. Paley 
and others, to the theory now under consideration, that 
it supposes, what in general is not true, that men have 
actually given their consent to the government under 
which they live ; whereas, in fact, they have had, for the 
most part, no opportunity either to give or refuse their 
consent. The question has never been asked them, " Are 
you satisfied with this present arrangement of affairs, 
or do you desire a change?" But such consent, it is 
argued, is always implied in a voluntary engagement or 
contract ; and where it is wanting, the transaction, what- 
ever else it may be, is no contract. To call it so, is a 
misnomer — an expression both false and useless. Sup- 
posing that my ancestors framed and entered into such 
an agreement, called the constitution: how does their 
action bind me? What voice have I, what voice have 
I ever had, in the matter? Or what has any one of the 
fifty thousand or five hundred thousand inhabitants of 
the same city or state with myself, to do in the matter? 
And what right has any man, ancestor or not, to bind 
me in this way, without my consent ? 

It must be confessed there is no little force in this 
objection. It must be confessed that men find themselves, 
by birth, members of whatever form of civil society exists 
around them, and that they have usually very little to do 
with shaping and forming the government under which 
they are to live. In this respect the state is clearly analo- 
gous to the family. It is not for a man to choose whether 
he will belong to this nation, or to that ; to this family. 



236 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



or to another, or to none. These things are decided for 
him. He is by birth a member of the family, and subject 
to 23arental rule. He is also by birth a member of civil 
society, and must take it as he finds it ; at least, for a con- 
siderable part of his life. 

Nor is it any answer to say, that such an arrangement 
is for the hest good of the subject. Doubtless it is so. 
The question just now is, not whether it is a wise and 
beneficial arrangement, but whether it is hinding ; and if 
so, v^liy^ and on what ground ? Suppose I do not choose 
to be trammelled by this arrangement, which somebody 
else, a few centuries ago, thought to be wise and expe- 
dient — what then? Suppose, even, I do not choose to 
submit to arrangements which are in reality for my own 
good? What right has one age and generation to bind 
another age, against its will, even to its own benefit ? 

The true answer to this reasoning I conceive to be, that, 
by the very nature of human society, the engagements of 
one generation must be held as binding upon those that 
come after, until at least they are directly rejected and 
annulled by the latter. Until such act of rejection, con- 
sent may fairly be presumed. Silence gives consent ; the 
simple living under and complying with the conditions of 
such an arrangement, gives consent. As Paley himself 
says with resj^ect to the laws which regulate the adminis- 
tration of justice : " The law of nature, founded in the 
very constitution of human society, which is formed to 
endure through a series of perishing generations, requires 
that the just engagements a man enters into should con- 
tinue in force beyond his own life; it folloAvs that the 
private rights of persons frequently depend upon what 
has been transacted in times remote from the present, 
by their ancestors or predecessors, or by those under 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



237 



whom tliey claim, or to whose obligations they have suc- 
ceeded." 

Now, this is true; but, as Dr. Whewell very justly re- 
marks, it is no more true of private rights, than of any 
other ; no more true of engagements which bind man and 
man, than of those which bind man and the state, since 
public rights, as well as private, and for the same reason, 
depend often on what was done by those who preceded 
us. 

The True Explanation. — I am far from maintaining, 
however, that the theory of a social contract is free from 
objections. Nor, on the other hand, can this be affirmed 
of either of the theories previously adduced. Each of 
them expresses an imj^ortant element of truth. Neither 
of them, as it seems to me, conveys the wiiole truth. 
Nor are these different theories necessarily exclusive of 
each other. On the contrary, it is only by combining 
whatever of truth is contained in each, with whatever is 
contained in the others, that we reach the complete expla- 
nation, the true philosophy, of civil government. 

It is doubtless true, for example, that existing constitu- 
tions and forms of government are of the nature of a 
social contract, in which the parties bind themselves to 
observe certain conditions, for the sake of securing cer- 
tain advantages; the parties being, severally, King and 
People ; or King, Lords, and Commons, on the one hand, 
and people on the other, as in the case of the English 
government ; or, as in our own country, every man with 
the whole people, and the whole people with every man. 
Nor is this the less a compact because formed and entered 
into by those who preceded the present generation. 

This, then, is the first fact which meets ns in our inves- 
tigation, — starting from the present actual condition of 



238 



NATURE AN^D FOUITDATION 



civil society, — the first step in the explanation of the 
phenomenon of human government. But if we were to 
stop here, we should leave much unexplained. How 
came man to form such compacts — everywhere, in all 
ages, and nations ? Is it accidental ? Is there not rather 
?i foundation m his very nature for just this condition of 
things ? Is he not, even, as Aristotle said, a political ani- 
mal f Here, then, we must bring in a second theory, and 
place it beside, or rather beneath the 'first, — civil govern- 
ment is founded in compact, but that compact is founded 
in the social nature of man. 

Nor would I stop here. How comes he by this nature ? 
Is it not the gift of God — an endowment conferred upon 
the creature by the all- wise Creator ? Did not God, in 
making man as he is, and conferring upon him this social 
nature, intend that he should be subject to civil authority? 
Here, then, we bring in still a third theory, — that of the 
divine will, — and place it at the foundation of the whole. 
Civil government is founded in compact ; but that com- 
l^act, again, depends on the nature of man ; and this, in 
turn, rests ultimately on the will of God. 

Of Divine Authority in what Sense. — According to 
the view now jDresented, civil government is of divine 
authority in this sense, and in this sense only, — that by 
the constitution of things, and of human nature, God has 
settled it that civil government, of some sort, there shaU 
be ; but of what sort it shall be, he has left it for men 
themselves to decide ; and this they do decide, each com- 
munity or people for itself, by some sort of social compact 
or agreement. It is not in the nature of things for any 
community of human beings to consent to live together 
without any form of government ; and, in point of fact, 
the rudest and wildest community on earth will be found 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



239 



to hare provided itself with some kind, and some degree 
of civil government. 

§111. — Historic Sketch. — Different Opinions as to the 
Nature of Civil Government. 

In the preceding sections the nature and foundation of 
civil government have been discussed as regards their 
general principles. It may serve to fix these princijoles 
more definitely in our minds, and perhaps contribute to 
the clearer aj^prehension of them, if we trace, in its general 
outliDes, the history of the topic now under consideration, 
as regards the opinions which have been held by writers of 
distinction respecting the nature of civil government. 

Opinions of the Ancients. — The idea of the state as a 
natural and a necessary institution, having its foundation in 
the very nature and constitution of man, was familiar to 
the ancients. Thus Aristotle : " It is manifest that the 
state is one of the things which exist by nature ; and that 
man is by nature a political animal. A man belonging to 
no state is less than man, or more." 

This view, however, by no means prevented them from 
regarding civil government, at the same time, as of divine 
origin, founded in the will of Deity. "All laws," says 
Plato, " came from God. No mortal man was the founder 
of laws." Aristotle coincides with this view. " Law," 
says Cicero^ " is nothing else but right reason, derived fi-oni 
the divinity, and government an emanation of the divine 
mind." The classical scholar need not be reminded that 
the writings of the ancient masters are pervaded with this 
sentiment. 

N'or, again, does this divine origin of government pre- 
clude, in their opinion, the conse7it of the governed, as in 



240 



NATURE AND FOUNDATION 



reality the proximate source of power. Locke is not, as 
often stated, the author of this theory of government ; on 
the contrary, it is a principle recognized in substance by 
the most distinguished political philosophers of the ancient 
world ; and that in perfect consistency with their view of 
the divine origin of government. The idea of a social 
compact is no novelty in the world. 

Plato makes " a tacit agreement between each member, 
and the whole community," to be the foundation of the 
state, and affirms that they who violate the laws, violate 
the agreement. " The civil law," says Aristotle^ " is that 
which takes place amongst a number of free persons, who 
are mem'bers of the same community, in which they live on 
a footiug of equality." 

" The state," says Cicero^ " is not every assemblage of 
men anyhow gathered, but a community united together 
by common laws, common interest, and a common con- 
sent." In like manner, Livy affirms that the force of the 
supreme command is based on the consent of those who 
obey. 

Of the Moderns. — Among the moderns, the doctrine 
of the dimne origin of government has been very generally 
held by English divines and statesmen. Subjection to the 
civil power, in the language of Bishop Horsley^ is " a con- 
scientious submission to the will of God." " Civil govern- 
ment," says Bishop Butler^ "is that part of God's govern- 
ment over the world which he exercises by the instrumen- 
tality of men. Considering that all power is of God, all 
authority is properly of divine appointment." The view 
of Dr. J^a^ey has already been stated. He bases the au- 
thority of government on the will of God as collected from 
expediency. The following is the language of Edmund 
JBurhe: "All dominion over man is the effisct of the divine 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



241 



disposition. It is bound by the eternal laws of him that 
gave it, with which no human authority can dispense. 
* * * are all born in subjection — all born equally, 

high and low, governors and governed, in subjection to one 
great, immutable, preexistent law, prior to all our devices, 
and all our contrivances, paramount to all our ideas, and 
all our sensations, antecedent to our very existence, — by 
which we are knit and connected in the eternal frame of 
the universe, and out of which we cannot stir. This great 
law does not arise out of our conventions, or compacts ; 
on the contrary, it gives to our compacts and conventions 
all the force and sanction they can have." 

Coincident with the views now expressed is that of the 
great theologian Galmn : " The reason why we should be 
subject to magistrates, is, because they are appointed by 
the ordinance of God. Since it has pleased God so to ad- 
minister the government of this world, he who resists their 
power, strives against the divine ordinance, and so fights 
against God. Because, to disregard his providence who is 
the author of civil government, is to go to war with him." 
These words are a comment upon a passage in the thir- 
teenth chapter of the epistle to the Romans, in which the 
divine authority of civil government is very clearly set 
forth, and which may be regarded as not merely the Pau- 
line, but the general Scripture doctrine of human govern- 
ment. 

Not Inconsistent with Social Compact. — But, while 
maintaining the views now stated respecting human gov- 
ernment, as founded in the will of God, and ultimately 
deriving its authority from that high source, the writers 
whom I have quoted by no means maintain that the vari- 
ous forms which human governments practically assume 
are also and equally of divine authority. On the contrary, 

21 



242 NATURE AND FOUNDATION 

they recognize the form as a matter of human invention 
and choice; and so, and that not inconsistently, they recog- 
nize, in many cases, the principle of the social compact. 
So, also, as we have seen, did Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero, 
while, in like manner, tracing back all law to a divine origi-' 
nal, nevertheless admit the consent of the governed as 
the proximate som'ce of authority in the state. Thus 
Bishop Ilorsley^ whom I have already quoted, while main- 
taining " that all government is in such sort of divine 
institution, that, be the form of any particular government 
what it may, the submission of the individual is a principal 
branch of that religious duty which each man owes to 
God," is careful to admit " that all particular forms of 
government which now exist are the work of human 
policy, under the control of God's overruling providence." 
They have not thought it, therefore, at all inconsistent with 
their theory of the divine authority of civil government, to 
inquire into the origin and sources of political power, as a 
thing of human contrivance and social compact. For, as 
has been well stated by Puffendorf in his Law of Nature 
and Nations^ " he who affirms sovereignty to result imme- 
diately from compact, doth not in the least detract from ^ 
the sacred character of civil government, or maintain that 
princes bear rule by human right only, not by divine." 

The doctrine of Social Compact has been held, in fact, by 
almost all the chief writers on Moral and Political Philoso- 
phy in modern times. Puffendorf, Grotius, Montesquieu, 
Blackstone, Milton, Bacon, Sidney, Locke, Barbeyrac, Bur- 
lamaqui, John Q. Adams, Jefferson, are among the more 
prominent names which occur in this connection. Of these, 
it will be sufficient to quote as authority Grotius and Black- 
stone. The former says : " Men, not influenced by the 
express command of God, but of their own accord, having 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



243 



experienced the weak defence of separated families against 
the assaults of violence, united themselves in civil society, 
the effect of v/hich was civil power, styled on this account, 
by St. Peter, the ordinance of man." Blackstone holds 
the following language respecting "the original contract of 
society." " This contract, though perhaps in no instance 
has it ever been formally expressed at the first institution 
of a state, yet in nature and reason must be always under- 
stood and implied, in the very act of associating together ; 
namely, that the whole should protect all its parts, and that 
every part should pay obedience to the will of the whole ; 
or, in other words, that the community should guard the 
rights of each individual member, and that, in return for 
this protection, each individual should submit to the laws 
of the community." The same authority, than which none 
is higher, pronounces the coronation oath taken by the 
monarchs of England on ascending the throne, to be, with- 
out dispute, an express and fundamental contract. This 
has always been the doctrine of the English Whigs. They 
acted on it when they brought Charles I. to the bar, and 
deposed James II. As already stated, the constitutions of 
these United States are based on the same great principle 
-—the Social Compact. 



CHAPTER II. 

VARIOUS FORMS OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 

The origin and object of civil government, and also the 
foundation on which it rests, have occupied our attention 
in the preceding chapter. A glance at the various forms 



244 



VARIOUS FORMS 



wliicli goYernment assumes in its actual working, and at 
the distribution of its several poioers^ will enable us the 
better to comprehend the practical duties, growing out of 
these several relations, as they may come up for considera- 
tion in the subsequent chapters. 

§ I. — Ajtaltsis of the Several ruxcTioxs and Forms 

OF GOVEEXMENT. 

It has been already observed, that every state is sover- 
eign and independent — the power of directing its own 
affairs lying wholly in its own hands. The state, in its 
aggregate capacity, however, cannot administer govern- 
ment, nor enact laws, nor execute justice. The whole 
mass of the people cannot leave their places of business, 
assemble in one body, and so devote their personal atten- 
tion to the affairs of government, the devising of suit- 
able laws and regulations, or the trial and punishment 
of offenders. Evidently, this is out of the question. Hence 
the necessity for delegated authority. The state, which is 
the real sovereign, — that is, the people, — must commit 
its power, for the time, into the hands of those duly ap- 
pointed and authorized to act for it, and whose acts, when 
thus commissioned, shall be in reality the action of the 
state. ]SJ"ow, as these officers, charged with the adminis- 
tration of government, vary as to number, and mode of 
appointment, and the nature and degree of the power 
committed to them, in this manner there arise so many 
different forms of government, in different countries, and 
different periods of history, — as monarchy, absolute or lim- 
ited ; aristocracy ; republicanism, or unlimited democracy. 

General Dimsioji of Functions. — Whatever may be 
the particular form which the government of a country 



OF CIYIL GOVERNMENT 



245 



assumes, there is usually a general division of the several 
230wers and functions of the government into distinct 
departments, which are much the same under all varieties 
of state organization, and in all civilized countries. It is 
found desirable, for obvious reasons, to distribute the pow- 
ers of government into three grand departments, — the 
Legislative, the Judicial, and the Executive, — and to keep 
these entirely distinct from each other. 

The wisdom of such an arrangement will appear on a 
moment's reflection. Were the business of enacting and 
of executing the laws committed to the same hands, such 
is the imperfection of human nature, that serious difficul- 
ties would be likely to arise. There would be too much 
room for personal bias and prejudice. The executive would 
enact such laws as suited his own notions and plans of 
government. The legislator would execute the laws ac- 
cording to his own ideas of the importance of this or that 
enactment, which he might have favored or opposed, while 
it was under discussion, prior to its becoming a law. The 
judge could not, with impartiality, try offences against laws 
which he had himself made, and was himself to execute. 
It is never safe to entrust these several powers to the same 
hands. Hence, with most governments, not altogether 
despotic, the power of legislating, or making the laws, 
is entrusted to one body; that of judging them, or trying 
offences under them, to another; and that of executing 
the decisions thus made, to still another; and these are 
called the Legislative^ the Judicial^ and the Executive 
departments of government. 

Upon these, again, certain checks are devised, for the 
prevention of abuse of power. The legislative body is 
usually composed of two parts, houses, or orders, differ- 
ently constituted, whose concurrent action is necessary to 

21* 



246 



VARIOUS FORMS 



the passage of any measure. Further, to guard against 
possible abuse of power, even under this arrangement, 
tliere is also the right of veto, — lodged usually with the 
executive, — by which it is in his power to check all rash 
and unwise legislation. In the Judiciary there is an effec- 
tual guarantee against intentional injustice, in the power 
of appeal from court to court, so that a case reaches its 
final decision only after having passed through successive 
trials, at different tribunals. 

Different Forms of Government. — Besides the general 
divisions now indicated, and which are more or less com- 
mon to all governments, not purely despotic in their na- 
ture, there are certain leading distinctions to be observed 
in respect to the various forms which the government may 
happen to assume. In different states, and at different 
periods of time, these forms vary widely and radically. 
The form of a government is determined by the character 
of its legislature or law-making power. As is that, so is 
the government. There are three principal forms which 
government assumes ; or, more strictly, so many elements of 
power, which, either singly or in various combinations, 
enter into the structure, and determine the form, of all 
governments. These are the monarchic, or despotic, the 
aristocratic, and the democratic. According as one or 
another of these elements prevails, we have for a govern- 
ment, monarchy absolute, or monarchy limited, aristocracy, 
the representative republic, or the complete democracy. 
In the first, or absolute monarchy^ the power is lodged in 
the hands of one. His will is law. The monarch is at 
once executive, and law-maker, and, if he pleases, judge 
also ; that is, those who may be nominally entrusted with 
the functions of legislative and judiciary power, are so at 
his pleasure, by his appointment, and, therefore, under 



OF CIYIL GOYERXMENT. 



24T 



his complete control. To his power there are no constitu- 
tional checks or restraints. In the limited monarchy this 
supreme power of the king, or emperor, is modified, and held 
in check by the other departments of government, and by 
constitutional restraints, which affix certain limits, beyond 
which he may not go. The legislative, the judiciary, and 
the executive functions are kept distinct, and the preroga- 
tives and powers of each are carefully guarded. Still, the 
monarchical element, or the idea of power in the hands of 
one, though in a modified form, prevails, and gives shape 
to the government. 

In the aristocracy^ we have a select body, sharing among 
themselves the powers and prerogatives of the govern- 
ment, or exercising the same in their collective capacity ; 
filling their own vacancies, or coming into their places by 
inheritance, or by accjuisition of certain titles, rank, or pos- 
sessions. The law-power is lodged no longer now^ in the 
hands of one, but of the few, — descended from a line of 
noble ancestors, distinguished for their valor, their high 
birth, or their achievements in history, or themselves the 
architects, it may be, of their own fortunes, — taking rank, 
not by inheritance, but by the splendor of their own tal- 
ents, their own fortunes, or their own services. These few 
stand forth fi'om among the common multitude, and rule 
by virtue of conceded superiority. 

In the inire democracy we have the simple reverse of 
pure monarchy, — power now in the hands of the many ; 
not idtimately, merely — for ultimately it is always with the 
many, under whatever form it may present itself to the 
view — but directly and immediately ; not in reality 
merely, but in form. The people at large make laws for 
themselves in assemblies of the whole, or by divisions and 
tribes. The will of the people is law, with no intervening 



248 



YARIOUS FORMS 



instrumentality or agency to give it expression and valid- 
ity. Or this democratic element, like the monarchic, m.ay 
present itself in a modified form, — the j^eople, instead of 
acting every man in person, in the assembly of the whole, 
delegating their power to certain persons authorized to 
act for them, or represent them ; the real power still Ipng 
in the hands of the many, nevertheless, who choose only 
such persons as they please to represent them, and who 
have in some form the j^ower of approving or revoking the 
decisions of the same. 

We have, then, as distinct elements of government — 
monarchy, absolute or limited; aristocracy; and democracy, 
pure or representative. As a matter of fact, very few 
governments present either of these forms, however, in a 
simple or j^ure state, but more or less intermingled and 
combined with each other. Thus, we may have a mon- 
archy, so far as regards the name and nature of the chief 
magistracy, along with an aristocracy or body of nobility, 
enjoying certain powers and privileges ; and back of these, 
again, a representative body, acting for the people, and, to 
some extent, holding in check both nobles and monarch. 
Such is the actual constitution of the English government. 
The Commons have the power of voting or refusing all 
taxes and supplies, and also, they have the control of the 
army, — thus holding in their hand both the purse and the 
sword of government. 

Our own constitution, also, while it dispenses with mon- 
arch and nobles, is by no means a simple and pure democ- 
racy, like the Athenian of old. The many are represented 
in legislative assembly. Over against this popular branch 
is placed the conservative element — a Senate — answer- 
ing in idea, though not in form, to the Upper House of 
English Parliament; while in the chief executive, we have 
that concentration of authority in the person of one, which, 



OF CIVIL GOYERiTMEXT. 



249 



■under a widely different form, is still, so far as it enters at 
all into the political fabric, the essential element of des- 
potic rather than democratic rule. 

» These different fonns of government, now described, 

have each their separate and special advantages, and, also, 
disadvantages. In proportion as the monarchic element 
prevails, government becomes efficient, strong, united in 
council, prompt and decisive in action. The tendency is 
to greater and greater assumption of powder by the one, to 
the injury of freedom, and the rights of the many. In 
proportion as democracy prevails, the popular will and 
rights are maintained ; but often at the expense of wisdom, 
in council, and of unity and efficiency in action. 

The constitution of the English government, and, in a 
still higher degi-ee, that of these United States, seem to 
me to present a combination of these several elements, 
wisely adapted to secure the most desirable results, with, 
perhaps, the fewest disadvantages. 

§ II. — Historical Sketch op Forms of Government. 

The various possible forms of government, and the 
several elements which enter more or less fully into the 
structure and composition of all forms, have been pointed 
out in the preceding section. Casting our eye now on 
the page of history, we shall find the various governments 
of the ancient and the modern time marked and char- 
acterized by the prevalence, Some of one, some of another 
of these several elements, — in some the monarchical, 
in others the aristocratic, in others still, the democratic 
element prevailing, and giving character to the form of 
government. It may serve to fix in our minds the prin- 
ciples already indicated, if we take a rapid glance at the 



250 



VARIOUS FORMS 



civil institutions of some of the nations prominent in 
history. 

The Hebrew State. — The civil polity of this re- 
markable people was primarily a Theocracy. God was 
the supreme ruler and civil head of the state ; in him 
was vested the law-making power — the sovereignty. Such 
a constitution of the state was no novelty, indeed, in the 
ancient world ; but, on the contrary, was quite in ac- 
cordance with the spirit of those earlier times. All the 
ancient law-givers — from Menes in Egypt, and Cadmus 
in Thebes, to Lycurgus in Sparta, and Numa in Rome — 
called in the aid of religion to strengthen the foundations 
of the civil power. With them, however, the religious 
sentiment was merely a means to an end : in the Hebrew 
polity, it was itself a chief end of the civil constitution. 
The recognition and adoration of one God, the supreme 
and rightful Ruler of the universe, was a fundamental law 
of the Hebrew state, a jBrst principle of the civil polity. 
Idolatry was a crime against the state, punishable as such ; 
and, on the other hand, the violation of the laws of the 
state was regarded as sin against God. 

Democratic Element. — The Hebrew polity was not, 
however, a pure Theocracy. The sovereignty vested in 
Jehovah was not to the exclusion of the civil magistrate ; 
it was an element of the government, rather than the 
government itself. Another and equally characteristic 
element of that government was democracy^ — a magis- 
tracy elected by the people, and a constitution adopted 
by the people. Jehovah himself would not become the 
sovereign and civil head of the state, until he had been 
formally and solemnly chosen as such by the safFrages of 
the assembly. Summoned, at the call of the trumpet, to 
the heights of Sinai, Moses receives commission to pro- 



OF'CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



251 



pose to the people Jeliovah as the national sovereign. 
The proposition is considered and accepted, in due form, 
by the people yielding their free and solemn assent. And 
all the people answered together : "All that the Lord hath 
spoken we will do." A solemn covenant is then entered 
into, — Jehovah, on his j^art, promising to be the ruler and 
protector of the nation ; the people, on their part, promis- 
ing faithful allegiance. Here, then, in due manner and 
form, is one instance, at least, of that which certain writers 
can find no trace of in history, viz., a social compact. It 
is a clear and manifest example of the manner in whicli, 
substantially, all free^ governments take their rise. As 
such it is recognized by the highest authorities, — Jahn, 
Lowman, Michaelis, Graves, Bossuet. 

Further Democratic Element. — In like manner, the 
fundamental laws of the state were adopted by the people 
in assembly of the whole. The Hebrew constitution was 
submitted to and adopted by the Hebrew people, as really 
and formally as the constitution of the United States was 
submitted to and adopted by the several states of the 
Union. At the death of Moses, it seems to have been 
again subjected to popular suffrage; and once in every 
seven years thereafter, by statute law, it was, in like 
manner, to be ratified in assembly of the whole. 

Such a government is, in the true sense, a government 
by the people, a democracy, — the constitution, the laws, 
the chief ruler, being subject to the popular will. 

i^ot only the laws, and the chief ruler, w^ere chosen by 
the people, but also the judges, and the chiefs, or princes 
of the several- tribes. Each tribe seems to have been 
under the immediate direction of its prince, and to have 
been subdivided into several classes, or groups of families, 
each having its own chief or elder. These princes of 
tribes, together with the chiefs, or heads of families, were. 



252 



VARIOUS FORMS 



in reality, representatives of the people, and constituted 
what may be called the popular branch of the govern- 
ment. Each tribe constituted, in fact, a separate state, in 
many respects independent, under its own prince and 
chiefs of families. It could even declare war, and make 
peace, for itself 

Equality of Classes and of Landed Property. — These 
several features constitute a strongly democratic cast of 
government, more nearly approaching a purely republican 
state than any other, perhaps, on record, except our own. 
To these characteristics should be added, also, the social 
equality of the people, — every person, whatever his birth, 
rank, wealth, or profession, being on a footing of entire 
equality, both socially and politically, with every other 
person in the state ; — and also the equal distrihiition of 
landed property among the people; thus securing the 
political independence of the masses, promoting industry 
and a fondness for agricultural pursuits, giving dignity to 
labor, and cherishing the spirit of manly self-reliance, the 
love of home and of the soil. 

Such were the leading features of the Hebrew polity. 

The Egtptiajt State. — When we compare these 
institutions, so liberal, and, in many respects, so closely 
resembling our own, with those of other nations of an- 
tiquity, we are struck with the contrast. In Egypt, for 
example, — from which, if from any country, Moses must 
be supposed to have derived his notions of civil govern- 
ment, — the state was a despotism. The soil belonged to 
the monarch, and the people who cultivated it belonged 
more to the king, than to themselves. The institution of 
caste — that curse of oriental nations — prevailed in full 
rigor, separating the people into three great classes, — the 
pi-iestly, the military, and the common people, or laboring 



or CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



253 



class ; which Litter were a mere herd, without possessions 
or honors. The military were supported from tlie public 
lands, — one-third of the entire national domain being 
divided among them for this purpose. The priesthood 
was the ruling class — making, modifying, and interpret- 
ing the laws, and filling all the civil offices. The king was 
chosen either from the sacerdotal or the military caste ; 
but the people had no voice in the election. Thus the 
king governed the nation, the gods governed the king 
(for Egypt, too, was strongly theocratic) ; but the priests 
governed the gods, by putting into their mouths such 
oracles as they chose. 

The Oriental States. —ISrot unlike the Egyptian, in 
its general features, were the several chief oriental govern- 
ments of the ancient world. The Assyrian and the 
Persian states, for example, were absolute monarchies, — 
complete military despotisms, — in which the will of the » 
monarch, wlio was at the same time warrior and king, 
was the supreme law. He* might be a just and liumarie 
man, like Cyrus, or the reverse ; he miglit govern wisel}^ 
and v,'cll, like Darius; or unjustly and arbitrarily, as many, 
if not most of the Assyrian and Persian monarclis ; but 
in either case he was a despot — irresponsible, unrestrained 
by law or constitution. 

The Spartan Government. — Nor yet in Sparta, under 
Lycurgus, do we find much that corresponds to our idea 
of civil liberty and popular rights. The power of the state 
was lodged in the hands of the senate, a body of nobles, 
holding office for life. The people had, indeed, the right 
to vote on any proposition submitted by the senate ; but it 
must be without discussion, or statement of reasons, — 
simply yes or no. It was for tlie sciKitc to originate all 

22 



254 



VAKIOUS FORMS 



laws; in them, also, was vested the whole executive 
power, and all the more important judicial decisions 
were likewise in their hands. Here we have an irresponsi- 
ble oligarchy, — the centralization of power in the hands 
of a body of nobles, — one of the worst forms of despot- 
ism. In no nation, perhaps, was there ever less real free- 
dom, as to the matters of state, and also of common life, 
than among the Spartans. All the affairs of social and 
domestic life, even the food and dress and manners of the 
citizens, were regulated by strict and stern decree. 

The Athenian State. — In Athens, again, we find a 
tyranny hardly less despotic, but of another kind, — the 
despotism not of the one, nor of the few, but of the many, 
— the despotism of a turbulent, fickle, and lawless democ- 
racy. The Athenian State was, from the first, strongly 
democratic. Even under the monarchical form of govern- 
ment, this tendency was apparent. The kings jDOssessed 
no absolute power, nor could they make or unmake laws 
at their pleasure. Bat not even the form of monarchy 
was suffered long to remain. By a clever artifice — the 
election of Jupiter as sole sovereign of the people — roy- 
alty is virtually abolished, and the chief power is lodged in 
the hands of archons, chosen by the people, or else by lot, 
at first for life, then for ten years, and, finally, year by year. 
These archons presided over the civil and miUtary affairs of 
the state — over religion — its laws, its courts of justice. 
Still, the power was in the hands of the people. Every 
citizen, however poor, had his vote in the popular assembly; 
and with that assembly lay the power of peace and war, of 
trying appeals from the civil courts, of regulating com- 
merce and finance ; in a word, of general legislation. The 
people were complete masters of the state. 

This had been well, if the people had only been masters 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



255 



of themselves also ; but, unfortunately, they were poorly 
fitted for self-government. Ever under the influence of 
designing men and demagogues ; ever ready to be carried 
away, with or without due cause, by some new excitement; 
ever jealous of true greatness, and of distinguished service 
rendered to the state ; ever impatient of restraint, and of 
all constitutional barriers; — liberty soon degenerated with 
them into licentiousness : the annual elections became 
scenes of disorder; and Athens, broken into contending 
factions, seemed on the verge of ruin. Draco and Solon 
were successively called to the helm, in this emergency ; but 
neither the severity of the one, nor the genius and VAsdom 
of the other, proved adequate to the task of imposing the 
needed restraints on this lawless element of popular will. 

Various checks were indeed introduced by Solon into 
the constitution, such as the division of the citizens into 
classes on a property basis, and the restriction of offices to 
the more wealthy ; the institution of a senate of four hun- 
dred, or council of state, to prepare business for the popular 
assembly ; the reestablishment of the Areopagus, as guar- 
dian of the laws, and of the public treasure, of education 
and of morals ; and, finally, the appointment of courts of 
judicature, with juries taken from the people, and of itin- 
erant judges for less important cases. These checks on the 
popular lawlessness were well devised, but in practice 
ineffectual. Neither senate of four hundred, nor Areopa- 
gus, famous for its wisdom, could withstand the tide of 
popular commotion. The popular will triumphed over all 
restraints of constitutional law ; and, within ten years from 
its adoption, the constitution of Solon gave place to a 
military despotism. 

The Romak State. — The classical scholar will not 
need to be reminded that the history of ancient Rome is 



256 



VARIOUS rOKMS 



but the narrative of one continued strucro;le between Aris- 
tocracy and Democracy — the Patrician and the Plebeian 
blood. In the original constitution of the state, the former 
alone, of these two classes, was recognized as having 
place and privilege ; the latter was an undistinguished 
herd, a mere rabble, a populace, occupying certain sections 
of the city, and forming a large portion of the rank and 
file of the army, but of no account politically; admitted 
neither to the senate, the magistracy, nor the deliberative 
assembly. 

The senate, composed entirely of patricians, or nobles, 
with the king or the consuls at its head, was the adminis- 
trative body, the executive power. The senate, together 
with the people, — /Senatus jPopzdusque Homanus, — con- 
stituted the deliberative and legislative body — an assem- 
bly of patrician families, distributed into curiaa or wards, 
according to the section of the city in which they dwelt, — 
thirty in all, — the decision of a majority of which, or of 
sixteen, was pronounced the will of the people. This as- 
sembly, or body, was called the Comitla Curiata, and was 
first instituted by Romulus. In this arrangement the ple- 
beians — the common people — had no share whatever. 

Comitia Centuriata. — It was not till the reign of Ser- 
A'ius Tullius that the claims of this^portion of the citizens 
came to be recognized in the administration of government, 
by the institution of an assembly called the Comitia Cen- 
turiata^ composed of patricians and plebeians together. 
This gave them important advantages ; but still they were 
excluded from all the higher offices, and from intermarriage 
with the patrician families. Nor was their share in legis- 
lation more than nominal. The constitution of the Comitia 
Centuriata was as follows : Tullius divided the people into 
six classes, on a property basis, — the first class consisting 
of all those whose estates, in lands and effects, amounted to 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 2d i 

one hundred thousand pounds of brass ; the second, of 
those who were worth seventy-five thousand ; the thu'd, of 
those worth fifty thousand; and so on to the sixth class, 
which included all those worth less than twelve thousand 
five hundred. This last included, of course, most of the 
plebeians. These classes, again, were divided into cen- 
turies, one hundred and ninety-three in all ; of which 
ninety-eight, a majority of the whole, were in the Ji7'sf class, 
while the whole of the sixth class, comprising a much 
larger number of the people than any other, constituted 
but a single century. As the vote was by centuries, this 
arrangement, of course, threw the whole power into the 
hands of the upper classes. Wealth predominated over 
numbers. The vote of the first class was first taken, and 
if the centuries comprising that class were unanimous, the 
question was decided, and the remaining centuries were 
not called. The great body of the people, in fact, never 
voted at all in this sort of assembly, except in case of a 
tie in the previous ballots; and it hardly ever happened 
that the lowest class was called. In these assemblies, the 
more important magistrates were chosen, — the consuls, 
pretors, censors, military tribunes, — the laws proposed by 
the higher magistrates were passed, war was declared, and 
all crimes against the state were tried. 

Change of Co7istitution. — The disparagement and in- 
equality of which I have spoken, came at last to be so 
deeply felt by the plebeian class, that they resolved no 
longer to submit to it, and withdrew in a body from the 
state. In order to persuade them to return, important con- 
cessions were now made. From the ranks of the plebeians 
two magistrates were appointed, to be chosen by the peo- 
ple themselves, called Tribunes of the Plebeians, as guar- 
dians of the interests and rights of that body. Their 
persons were inviolable, and they had full power to arrest 

22* 



258 



VAllIOUS FORMS 



ail legal proceedings against any citizen. As anotlier 
measure of relief, the debts of impoverished plebeians 
were also cancelled. The Comitia Trihuta, or Assembly 
of the Tribes, was also instituted, which gave the plebeians 
some share in legislative affairs. 

These comitia embraced, nominally, all the citizens ; but, 
as the votes of all were here of equal weight, the patricians, 
or nobles, seldom attended, and the assembly was, in fact, a 
plebeian affair. In these assemblies, the inferior city and 
provincial magistrates were chosen, certain laws were 
passed, and certain trials, not of a capital nature, were held. 
The tribunes of the people were also elected in these 
comitia. 

The specific powers and functions of these several as- 
semblies — the Senate, the Centuries, and the Tribes — 
were probably not very clearly defined. The system, as 
thus arranged, was complicated and ill-adjusted, and, in its 
practical working, by no means harmonious. Patricians 
and plebeians were still in constant rivalry and altercation. 
The latter, however, by virtue of long-continued and 
determined struggles, were gradually gaining more and 
more power in the state. Step by step, important rights 
were secured. Intermarriage of the two classes was no 
longer forbidden. The senate, and even the consulship, 
were brought within reach of plebeian talent and ambi- 
tion. Finally, of the two consuls, one was. to be chosen 
invari:ib]y from the plebeian ranks, and the other high 
mngistracies were thrown open to all classes of the peo- 
ple. Tlie decrees of the Comitia Tributa were also in- 
vested with the authority of general law, and not binding, 
as before, merely upon the plebeians themselves. In fact, 
the political distinction of the two classes came to be of 
much less consequence than before. 

Tlicsc gradual and important changes introduced what 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMEXT. 



259 



has been justly called the golden period of the Roman 
constitution. The regal, the aristocratic, and the demo- 
cratic elements are at last more equitably and harmo- 
niously combined, — the consuls representing the regal, 
the senate the aristocratic, and the comitia of centuries 
and tribes the democratic power of the state. Up to 
this time, these several powers had been in continual agi- 
tation and strife with each other for the ascendency. 

The whole history of the Republic, in truth, from the 
expulsion of the kings until the point which Ave have now 
reached, was one continued struggle betw^een these sepa- 
rated and inharmonious elements. The chief power had 
been in the hands of the wealthy and the noble, wdio 
Avere ever plotting against the rights of the people ; con- 
suls, pretors, senators, were clothed wdth the highest au- 
thority, even of life and death ; the laws were severe, and 
often unequally administered; while the tribunes, set to 
guard the fights of the people, were ever aiming at the 
possession of power and honor for themselves, and so 
were often false to their trust. Such were the radical 
defects of the Roman constitution in wdiat we may call 
the transition period of its history. 

Further Change. — How long this better adjusted sys- 
tem might have continued, or how well it might have 
operated in the absence of disturbing causes from with- 
out, it is not for us to say. But as Rome enlarged her 
borders, and her power extended over the several prov- 
inces and states that lay round about her, the polity con- 
structed originally for the government of the city, was 
found ill adapted to the government of an extended coun- 
try. The people of the ivhole of Italy were too numer- 
ous to act in concert as a body. Tlie representative 
system, of modern times was not as yet invented. The 



260 



VARIOUS FORMS 



democratic element of the state became unwieldy and 
unmanageable. Scenes of lawlessness and violence en- 
sued ; mobs prevailed ; armies were necessary to preserve 
the peace. And so security was purchased at the expense 
of liberty, and military rule placed in the hands of the 
successful leader the sceptre of imperial power. 

This power was unlimited. The oath of allegiance, 
which bound the soldier, by the most solemn impreca- 
tions, and in the most absolute manner, to the service and 
obedience of his commander, now bound him in the same 
terms to the emperor, as commander-in-chief; and this 
oath was taken, not by the soldiers only, but by all magis- 
trates and citizens. The civil and military authority were 
thus united; the legislative and the executive powers 
reverted to one j^ossessor; even the religious authority 
was added, — the emperor being invested with a sacred, 
and, in some sense, divine character; and so monarchy 
displaces at last the constitution, and assumes to itself 
the powers and rights of the people. Such, in brief out- 
line, is the history, and such the termination, of the Ro- 
man State. 

Feudal System. — ^ Thus far, in our rapid survey of the 
progress of government among different nations, our at- 
tention has been directed to the ancient world. Glancing 
now at the more recent times, we find in the middle ages 
a system widely prevalent, and of marked peculiarities, 
generally known as the Feudal System. 

The northern tribes, which, on the decline of the Ro- 
man power, overran and took possession of the provinces 
previously subject to the imperial sway, seem to have 
been, for the most part, of republican tendencies. Their 
chiefs, though sometimes designated by the title of king, 
possessed but limited j)ower. The supreme authority was 



OF CIVIL GOYEliNMENT. 



2G1 



with the people, the freemen of the nation. The addi- 
tional authority conferred upon the chief appointed to the 
command of the army in war, continued only till the 
return of peace. These German chiefs had each a band 
of followers, voluntarily attached to him, supported at his 
table, and devoted to his service. They were his vassi, 
liis young men ; hence the term homage^ from the Latin 
homo. They who stood in this relation to the chief, or 
suj^erior, held themselves ready to foUoAv the fortunes of 
their leader, and sacrifice life itself for his interest. The 
connection was one of the most binding and sacred na- 
ture ; and when the German tribes subdued the surrounding 
provinces, and established their own forms of government 
in the conquered territories, the relation now described 
became one of the chief features of the policy thus estab- 
lished. Thus arose the Feudal System, so called from the 
term Feud, or Fief, which Avas tlie name given to those 
landed possessions which the chiefs bestowed on their 
retainers, in the partition of the conquered lands. These 
fiefs were merely life-loans, the right of ownership being- 
vested in the chief If the son, however, devoted his per- 
son and service to the chief whom his father had served, 
he received, by custom, his father's fief; and this custom, 
in the course of centuries, came to be regarded as a right. 
This tenure of land by military service, which is one of 
the prominent features of the feudal system, and which 
in fact has given it its name, seems, however, to have been 
of earlier origin. It was, in fact, a custom borrowed from 
the days of the Roman Empire. Under Constantine, and 
the earlier emperors, the distant provinces of the empire 
were granted to certain military dukes, or counts, and 
their soldiery, on condition of their defending the same. 
These military leaders were magistrates, as well as com- 
manders of the troops; and the military thus organized 



262 



VARIOUS FORMS 



constituted a distinct and privileged class — a military 
aristocracy. 

Thus arose the feudal system of the middle ages, — at 
first Germanic, afterwards extended over most of Europe, 
— a system of vs^hich the principal features were the two 
now indicated — the relation of Seignior and Vassal, and 
the tenure of land as fief, or feud, for service rendered. 
It was, on the whole, an advance on the arbitrary power 
of the Roman Empire. The inferior had his acknowl- 
edged rights, and the chief his acknowledged obligations. 
The service of the one was to be repaid by the protection 
of the other. Still, it was a system fraught w^ith abuse 
and oppression. The lowest members enjoyed very little 
liberty, while to the peaceable inhabitants — those who 
were not included in the army — this system afforded no 
security or protection in their rights. 

English Cois-stitution". — The earlier Anglo-Saxon 
race seem to have derived from their Germanic ancestry 
a love of freedom, which infused itself into their laws and 
institutions. The Great Council of the nation — composed 
of prelates, abbots, aldermen, or elder-men^ of the shires, 
and the noble and wise of the realm — gave its consent to 
all the important acts of government, and to all the laws 
of the land. The Norman Conquest introduced into Eng- 
land the feudal system, with even augmented rigor; but 
the conqueror so far relaxed his severity, subsequently, as 
to grant his subjects a charter, relieving in a degree the 
feudal oppression. Successive charters, under successive 
kings, granted still greater liberty ; but it was not until the 
Great Charter of King John, that the English constitution 
can be said to have received its distinctive impress and 
character. This instrument has always and justly been 
regarded as lying at the foundation of English constitu- 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



263 



tional law. In the language of Mr. Hallam: "This is still 
the key-stone of English liberty. All that has since been 
obtained, is little more than as confirmation or commen- 
tary ; and if every subsequent law were to be swept away, 
there would still remain the bold features which distin- 
guish a free from a despotic monarchy." This charter 
guarantees security of person and of property to all free- 
men. " No freeman shall be taken, or imprisoned, or dis- 
seized of his freehold, or liberties, or free customs ; or be 
outlawed, or exiled, or any otherwise destroyed. 'Nor 
will we pass upon him, but by the lawful judgment of his 
peers, and of the law of the land." The charter also lim- 
its and restrains the previously excessive power of the 
feudal lords over their vassals. 

Further Safeguards. — Another safeguard of English 
liberty was the restriction of the right of taxation. Under 
the Saxon and the Norman dynasty, the king legislated 
ODly with the advice and consent of his Parliament ; all 
new laws, and all new taxes, as well as other laws, must 
receive the sanction of this council of the realm. The 
Great Charter restrained somewhat the royal power as to 
taxes already established, — as, for example, the tax in com- 
mutation for personal military service, called esciiage, — but 
it was not until Edward the First that the English consti- 
tution received its complete and definite form, as respects 
the right of taxation, requiring the consent of Parliament 
to all taxes imposed by the crown, and thus securing to 
private property that protection which was gained for per- 
sonal liberty under the Great Charter of King John. 

Already, however, had another and even more important 
step been taken in the progress of constitutional liberty in 
England. The same century that gave England the Magna 
Charta, and the concessions of Edward the First, as to 
right of taxation, witnessed the introduction of a new fea- 



264 



VARIOUS FORMS 



ture into her government, — the participation of the com- 
mon people, with the nobles, in the deliberations and decis- 
ions of the Great Council ; in other words, the establish- 
ment of the Honse of Commons. The first appearance of 
deputies from cities and boroughs in Parliament, was after 
the defeat of Henry the Third, by the Barons, in the battle 
of Lewes; and not until Edward the First were they 
permanently connected with that body. In successive 
reigns the power of this body was enlarged, and more fully 
established ; its concurrence w^ith the House of Peers be- 
came necessary, in order to any alterations of the law ; and 
it exercised the right of inquiry into public measures, and 
abuses, and even of impeaching the king's ministers. In 
the fifteenth century, under the reign of the House of 
Lancaster, these powers were still further developed : the 
exclusive right of taxation by Parliament was secured, and 
so the right of controlling the rational expenditure; the 
right of making the supplies of the crown depend upon 
redress of grievances ; the right of controlling the royal 
decisions in questions of peace and war ; of punishing un- 
worthy and corrupt ministers ; and, what is quite as impor- 
tant, the right of liberty of person, and liberty of speech, 
to every member of Parliament. 

These were measures of great moment, and proved an 
effectual security against the encroachments of arbitrary 
power. From that time onward, though subject still to 
many abuses and reverses, the English constitution became 
the great bulwark of liberty defined and protected by law. 
The great elements of monarchy, aristocracy, and democ- 
racy, were so adjusted, and set over against each other, as 
to afford due check and balance each to the other. Con- 
stitutional government, though sometimes overborne by 
the arbiti-ary power of a m.onarch more bold and assuming 
than the rest, never filled to regain its former possessions 



OF CIYIL GOVERNMENT. 



265 



and rights. The power of Henry the Eighth, of Mary, and 
of Elizabeth, was still a power limited and controlled by 
established law. As Whewell justly remarks : " Elizabeth 
frequently spoke to her Parliaments in an imperious man- 
ner ; but they, too, had members, who spoke boldly on 
the other side ; and though she exercised a large power in 
some instances, she yielded in others. The voice of English 
freedom was never silenced in the Houses of Parliament, 
nor the voice of English law in the Courts of Justice." 

The great Revolution of 1688, which declared the throne 
of James the Second vacant^ and placed William the 
Third upon that throne, as the representative of constitu- 
tional liberty, was the final death-scene of the doctrine of 
absolute power, and of the divine right of kings in Eng- 
land. 

Coj^'STiTUTiox OF THE UNITED States. — Our histoHcal 
sketch of the different forms of civil government would be 
quite incomplete if we were to pass without notice the 
constitution of our own country. A very brief survey of 
its more prominent features is all which the limits of the 
present section allow. 

The British colonies of [N'orth America — the germ of 
the states which compose the Union — brought to the for- 
mation and settlement of their political and civil institu- 
tions, a wisdom and experience in such matters not always 
enjoyed by the founders of new states. They had the his- 
tory of Europe and of the world to guide them. They 
brought with them from the mother country a love of lib- 
erty, and just ideas of human rights; while, at the same 
time, they were far from those restraints which ancient 
customs and usages, and the regard for what is once estab- 
lished, impose on the progress of opinion and improve- 
ment in the Old World. Tlie first principles of freedom 

23 



266 



VARIOUS FORMS 



they had learned in the father-land ; while the errors of 
that government, and their own personal injuries and suf- 
ferings under it, rendered thenx deeply sensible of the dan- 
gers and evils to be avoided. When, in the progress of 
events, their independence of all foreign power left them 
at liberty to choose their own form of government, the 
constitution which, after mature deliberation, was adopted, 
may be regarded as the united act and will of the whole 
people. 

Principle of Representation. — The distinguishing fea- 
ture of the government — the basis on which the whole 
system rests — on which all free institutions must ever rest 
— is the principle of just and equal representation, — a rep- 
resentation extending to all interests, and to all classes of 
the people. There is no privileged class, no excluded class. 
The people are the nation, and the nation governs itself. 
With trivial exceptions, the elective franchise belongs to 
the whole body of free citizens, without distinction. The 
principle of representation, as we have already seen, is in- 
deed recognized in other countries, especially in England ; 
but in the constitution of the United States we find it, 
for the first time in history, fully and fairly carried out, and 
made the loundation of free government. It is only in 
this country that, at this moment indeed, a genuine repre- 
sentation of the people exists. 

Melation of the several States to the General Govern- 
ment. — Within certain limits, the powers of government 
are exercised by the respective states within themselves ; 
beyond these limits, the power is vested in the general gov- 
ernment. The relation of the several states, therefore, to 
the general government, is not that of so many independ- 
ent communities united for certain purposes in one confed- 
eration. The constitution is more than a compact between 
independent powers : it is a union of the people, as a 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



267 



whole, into one nation and one government. Those pow- 
ers and offices which more properly belong to the nation, 
as such, — as, for example, the treaty-making jDOwer, the 
declaring of peace and war, the coining of money, the 
regulation of revenues and the postal service, the regula- 
tion of comnierce, and other like powers of a general na- 
ture, — are under the control of the general government ; 
while, in other matters, each state administers its own 
affairs, independent of all others. 

The constitutions of the several states, and that of the 
IJnited States, must therefore be viewed in connection, as 
parts of one system, in order to a complete and just con- 
ception of our government as a whole. 

Distribution of Powers. — The constitutions of the 
several states, and that of the United States, are in general 
modelled on the same plan, — comprising, as their essential 
features, a legislative authority vested in two houses, and 
an executive, with prescribed and definite powers ; — all 
chosen, either by the people directly, or through their rep- 
resentatives. 

In the national government, the legislative body — a Con- 
gress, as it is temied — is composed of a Senate, and House 
of Representatives ; the former elected for the term of six 
years, by the legislatures of the several states, two for each* 
state ; the latter chosen by the people directly, every two 
years — the number varying according to the population 
of each state. The Executive, whose term of office is four 
years, is chosen by electors appointed for the purjDose, as 
the respective state legislatures may direct. 

All bills for revenue must originate in the house of rep- 
resentatives. All cases of impeachment of public officers 
must be tried by the senate. Every bill passed by the 
senate and house of representatives must be submitted to, 



268 



VARIOUS FORMS 



and approved by the executive, before it becomes a law. 
In case he refuses his approval and signature, it is returned, 
with his objections, in writing, to the house from which it 
originated; and if, upon reconsideration, it is still approved 
by two-thirds of the house, it is then sent to the other 
house, and if passed by two-thirds of that also, it then 
becomes a law, irrespective of the jDresidential veto. 

Congress has power to levy taxes, duties, etc. ; to borrow 
money ; to regulate commerce with foreign nations, and 
between the several states ; to raise and support armies, 
and provide a navy; to organize the Supreme Court, and 
appoint tribunals inferior to the same ; to punish treason, 
piracy, and offences against the laws of nations ; to coin 
money, and establish post-offices and post-routes ; to make 
all needful rules for the government of the territories of the 
United States ; to admit new states to the Union, and to 
propose amendments to the constitution by vote of two- 
thirds of both houses, — such amendments to be ratified by 
the legislatures, or by conventions called for the purpose, 
in three-fourths of the states. 

Besides the negative power already mentioned, the ex- 
ecutive, by consent of the senate, may make treaties, and 
appoint ambassadors, and the principal officers of the gov- 
ernment. A pardoning power is also lodged in his hands. 

Neither congress nor the executive has any power to in- 
terfere with, or prevent, the largest freedom of speech, and 
of the press, nor the utmost liberty of religious belief and 
worship. 

Points of Contrast. — If one were asked to point out 
the essential advantages of this constitution over those of 
other countries, — as, for example, of England, or of the 
ancient republics, — the limited outline already given would 
furnish an answer. In no other country, ancient or mod- 



OF CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 



269 



ern, will he find the great principle of popular representa- 
tion, which underlies all free government, so fully carried 
out, and completely embodied into the whole structure of 
government ; in almost no other, such unlimited freedom 
of speech, and the press ; in no other, such entire absence 
of all church, or other religious establishments, prescribed 
by law — such entire freedom of all men to do as they please 
in matters of religious belief and worship ; in no other, 
such entire exemption from military establishments, and 
a standing army ; in no other, the rights of citizens, with- 
out distinction of persons and classes, so fully and effect- 
ually secured. 

Resume. — We have, in the preceding pages, as was pro- 
posed, passed in brief review the leading features of some 
of the more prominent forms of government, as developed 
among the chief historic nations of ancient and modern 
times. Everywhere we find the three great elements of all 
government — monarchy, aristocracy, democracy — more or 
less fully developed, more or less in conflict with each 
other, more or less checking and balancing each the 
other. We find the simplicity and unity of patriarchal 
rule — the germ, doubtless, whence all civil governments 
originally sprang — tending naturally to the concentration 
of power in the hands of one ; in other words, to monarchy: 
and this we find the predominant element, as we might 
expect, in the earlier and oriental governments. As we 
pass on down the line of nations and of ages, we find this 
monarchical power more and more limited and circum- 
scribed by the power of chiefs and nobles ; the aristocratic 
element thrusting itself into prominence ; at times displac- 
ing even tlie kingly power altogether, as in Sparta, and the 
Roman Republic. In the progress of time, the popular will 
learns its strength, and asserts its rights ; the democratic 

23* 



270 



VARIOUS FORMS 



element comes into view as an important factor ; wages, for 
a time, unequal strife with the antagonist forces of kingly 
and aristocratic jDower ; gains for itself, in the end, impor- 
tant rights and privileges, as in the long-continued straggle 
between the plebeian and patrician classes in Rome ; and, 
finally triumphant, secures for itself charters, and constitu- 
tions, and laws, guarding forever its liberties against all 
aggression, as in England. 

One thing is noticeable in this brief outline of the his- 
tory of civil government, — the entire absence of that 
most important feature of all free governments — the 
representative princixjle — in all the ancient systems, with 
the exception, perhaps, of the Hebrew ; and even in that, 
the principle, if recognized, was not very clearly defined. 
The systems of Solon and of Lycurgus are ignorant of it. 
In Rome, it was the very thing wanting to secure the 
rights of the peoj^le, and put an end to the incessant con- 
flicts of plebeian and patrician factions. It is only in the 
history of the English constitution that we find this great 
principle first distinctly brought forward, as the basis of 
just legislation. 

Nor can I forbear to mention yet another thing, — the 
close resemblance, in many resj^ects, between the ancient 
Hebrew Commonwealth and our own. The Institutes of 
Moses give us the first truly free and republican state, of 
which history retains any record. Ages passed away be- 
fore another appeared worthy to be compared with that, — 
ages of conflict and turmoil, and manifold but too often 
futile experiments, l^ot from Athens, Rome, or Sparta, 
have we derived the essential principles of our constitu- 
tion. The cradle of American liberty was rocked, not in 
ancient Greece, or sunny Italy, but in the deserts of Ara- 
bia, and at the frowning base of Horeb. 



DUTIES TO THE STATE. 



271 



CHAPTER III. 

DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT TO THE STATE. 

We have already defined the state to be any commu- 
nity dwelling together, and organized for the pm-pose 
of civil government. We have found it, as an institution, 
closely analogous to, and probably originating in, the sys- 
tem of parental government in the family ; we have seen 
it to be founded, immediately and primarily, on the con- 
sent of the governed, regarded as contracting parties, freely 
entering into and abiding by certain arrangements for the 
general good ; mediately and ultimately, on the social na- 
ture of man, and so, on the will of God, as the author 
of that nature. The way is thus prepared for the consid- 
eration, in the present chapter, of the duties which this 
relation imposes upon the subject, or citizen, to the state 
of which he is a member, and the government under which 
he lives. 

These duties are various ; prominent among which may 
be named the duty to respect and honor ^ to ohey^ to SK/p- 
port^ and to defend the government whose protection he 
enjoys. 

1. Respect. — It is incumbent on every citizen to respect 
and honor the state and its constituted authorities, — to 
treat with becoming deference its laws, its established 
forms and usages, its magistrates and oflicers, whether 
executive, legislative, or judiciary. It is only through 
these, its laws, its usages, its constituted authorities, that 
the state, as such, comes into practical relation to the citi- 
zen, as such. To honor these, is to honor the state ; to dis- 



272 



DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT 



honor these, is to cast contemj^t upon the whole institution 
and fabric of civil government. 

These laws, forms, and constituted authorities, demand 
respect, as being in themselves the expression of the popular 
will, and the popular sovereignty. That will and sovereign 
jDOwer, find their material embodiment and expression in 
these forms, just as the thought, or feeling, that agitate and 
lie hidden in the breast, find their utterance and expression 
in the spoken word. The laws of the state, its established 
usages and institutions, its appointed ofiicers, are to me 
the visible representation and the uttered voice of the 
state itself. I am bound to respect them, as I respect the 
majesty and collected wish and power of the whole people. 
If it is fit and proper that I should respect and honor any 
individual man, as such, and for what he is in himself, much 
more that I should honor the collective wisdom and dig- 
nity and worth of the whole nation, — that is, the con- 
stitution, laws, and officers, which represent and embody 
these. 

Especially is this duty incumbent on those who live 
under a free and republican government. There is, if 
I mistake not, in the very nature of such institutions, 
that which makes it the special and imperative duty of 
their subjects to cherish towards them sentiments of re- 
spect. A free, and especially a republican government, 
is peculiarly exposed to danger, from the prevalence of 
erroneous views and sentiments among the people ; pecu- 
liarly dependent on their respect, and earnest, honest 
attachment. In a monarchical, and especially a despotic 
government, there is comparatively little danger from this 
source. There are elements of power in such a govern- 
ment which can command, if not the love, at least the 
respect of the subjects. The pomp of royalty ; the splendor 
of the throne ; the power of military forces ; the prestige 



TO THE STATE. 



273 



of kingly birth and. name ; the associations of tlie past, and 
the visible majesty and strength of the present, — these all 
speak to the senses of the common mass, to the dullest 
understanding, and make themselves respected and feared. 

In a republican state, these elements are wanting. There 
is no royalty ; no splendor of court and throne ; no ances- 
tral honors : no regal dignity of birth and lineage ; no 
standing army, to enforce obedience and command respect. 
The foundation of every free government is laid in the 
hearts of the people. The pillars of the republican state 
are the virtue, intelligence, and loyalty of her sons. She 
is strong only as they stand around her in their united 
strength — reverent, filial, and firm in her defence. When 
they become disaffected and disloyal, the state is in peril ; 
when they withdraw their respect and confidence, it falls ; 
— the fair fabric, reared with so much care, and treasure, 
and toil, — the goodly temple of liberty, — lies in ruins. 
No accumulation of physical resources can save it ; no mul- 
tiplied strength of numbers, and of sinewy arms, or of mil- 
itary weapons, can save it from such a fate, when once the 
respect and attachment of the people for their civil institu- 
tions is gone. The love of law and order, and of our own 
forms of government, as such, — this is our strength, our 
safety, our right arm of defence. A despotism, or limited 
monarchy, — almost any other form of government, — may 
continue to subsist without this'ieiement ; a republic, never. 

2. Obediekce. — One of the first and most imperative 
duties of the citizen to the state of which he is a member, 
is to obey its just laws and requirements. Whatever rea- 
sons there are for the existence of the state, and of such a 
thing as civil government, be those reasons more or less 
numerous and weighty, the same, and with equal force, 
are to be urged in favor of obedience to that government, 



274 



DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT 



within its just bounds. Not to obey, is virtually to annul, 
and abolish, both law, and the authority that makes law. 
Every citizen is bound to submit to the civil authority, 
then, because, in the first place, the public good requires 
it. Society cannot prosper, nor even long exist, without 
government. No community can dwell together in har- 
mony without the recognized principle of law to regulate 
its movements, and balance its otherwise conflicting inter- 
ests. As well dispense with gravitation in the physical 
world, and expect mountains and seas and all things to keep 
fast their places, as with law in the moral world, and ex- 
' pect human affairs to move on harmoniously and in order. 

This is sufficiently attested by the experience of all 
times ; by the fact that no community is known to exist 
on the face of the earth, entirely without any principle 
of law, or any form of government ; by the universally 
observed truth, that in any community, just in proportion 
as the arm of state is inert and inefficient, crime prevails, 
injustice abounds, the best interests of the whole people 
suffer. 

Additional Reason. — In every free government, the citi- 
zen is under an additional obligation to obey the laws and 
uphold the institutions of his country, from the fact that 
those laws and institutions are the expressed wish and choice 
of the whole people. This circumstance gives them addi- 
tional authority. Every individual is under obligation to re- 
spect the wishes and the rights of the whole body, of which 
he is a member, and to submit to those rules and requisi- 
tions which the collective wisdom and will of the whole 
body have appointed. Nations may be independent of each 
other, to some extent ; but not so with individuals dwelling 
together in the same community. But, suppose I am dis- 
satisfied with existing arrangements: what is my remedy? 
I have the right, in that case, to do all I can, peaceably, to 



TO THE STATE. 



275 



effect a change in those arrangements, and in the public 
opinion that sustains them. This is my undoubted privi- 
lege. But I have no right, simply because the existing 
laws and government do not suit my notions of what 
the laws and government should be, to cast off all alle- 
giance, and refuse submission to them ; for this is to say, 
the people shall not rule. When the voice of the millions, 
rising in majesty, is heard to say, " Let such things, such 
rules, such rulers be," it is not for the individual voice to 
say, " No, they shall not be." This is a principle, however, 
which applies only to such governments as are in reality 
the choice and will, expressed, or implied, of the people 
governed. When the laws and rulers are not of the peo- 
ple's making, but imposed upon them by arbitrary power, 
the duty of submission must turn upon other considera- 
tions. 

I find, then, that my duty to my fellow-citizens, and my 
own, no less than the public good, require of me obedience 
to civil authority. It might be added that, inasmuch as 
I have enjoyed for a considerable time the inestimable 
advantages of civil society and a good government, I am 
bound in gratitude to do what I can to sustain and uphold 
the same, as but a reasonable return for favors received ; 
and furthermore, that by living under this system, and 
taking some part, it may be, as a citizen, in its affairs, I 
have in a manner, tacitly, but virtually, pledged myself to 
such a course. 

A Question. — But, here it may be asked, is the obe- 
dience of the subject to be unconditional and unqualified ? 
is he to obey any and all laws and requirements, what- 
ever they may be ? This I cannot afiirm. I have spoken 
of the duty of obedience only to such laws as are just 
and right; such as do not exceed the proper province and 
prei'ogative of the state ; such as do not come clearly into 



276 



DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT 



conflict with that revealed will of God, which is above all 
human legislation, and to which alone we are ultimately 
accountable. Whatever enactment of human authority- 
conflicts with this prior and supreme law, carries with it, 
at the bar of conscience, no power of obligation — be- 
comes to every intelligent and devout mind, so soon as it 
is perceived to be contrary to the divine will, null and 
void. There can be no question on this point, which will 
not lead to practical atheism, to the deposing the Supreme 
Ruler from the throne of the universe, and placing there- 
on the merely human lawgiver and magistrate instead. 
When the state to which I hold allegiance so far forgets 
itself as to step beyond its proper province, and command 
what it has no right to command, my obligation ceases; 
when it goes further even than this, and commands what 
God has forbidden, its commands must be disregarded. 
In the former case, I may obey or not, as I please ; in the 
latter, I have no right to obey : obedience becomes a sin. 

Further Question. — But, it may still be asked, in what 
cases is resistance justifiable ? Suppose the acts of gov- 
ernment, though not, perhaps, specially in conflict with 
the divine commands, are, nevertheless, arbitrary and op- 
pressive ; the service required, the taxes levied, the dis- 
posal made of the public resources, the administration of 
justice, are all such as to occasion discontent among the 
people ; a series of systematic encroachments is made upon 
the public rights, and the intention is evident to crush out 
the spirit of liberty from the nation, and establish despot- 
ism in place of free institutions ; — suppose such a state of 
civil affairs to occur in any country, — a condition of 
things which, unfortunately, is of too frequent occurrence 
in the history of the world, — are the people, in such a 
case, under obligation still to yield obedience ? I reply, 



TO THE STATE. 



277 



that, according to the doctrine maintained in the previous 
chapter, government exists for the good of the governed : 
not the people for the king, the governor, the magistrate ; 
but king, governor, magistrate, for the people : not society 
for the law, but the law for society. The end of law and 
government is the public welfare, — that, and that only. 
And when, in any case, the existing system no longer 
subserves this end ; when the public good is not promoted, 
but hindered by it ; when either the public freedom or the 
public virtue, or both, are in danger from the arm that is 
appointed to protect them, — then it may become not only 
the right, but the duty of the people, to resist the power 
that proves itself false and recreant to its trust, and to 
effect a change of government. 

The right to such resistance and change becomes still 
more apparent, if we adopt the view, maintained in the 
previous chapter, that government is, in its essential na- 
ture, a species of contract between the different members 
of the body politic. If this be so, then surely, when, by 
any dishonesty or negligence of any of the parties to this 
engagement, the essential terras and conditions of the 
contract are violated, and the end which it was designed 
to accomplish is no longer secured, they who make the 
contract have the right to unmake it, or change it as they 
like. 

Objection. — It may be said, this leaves too wide a door 
for fiction and revolution, to come in, encourages discon- 
tent, and endangers the stability of all government. Dr. 
Baley has urged this objection as of force against the the- 
ory of social compact ; he regards that theory of the na- 
ture of government as leading, in this way, to dangerous 
conclusions. That the principle now stated is one liable 
to abuse, must be confessed ; but what principle, it may 
be replied, that we could substitute in its place, would be 

24 



278 



DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT 



less so. Shall we, then, deny to the j^eople the right, 
under any ch'cumstances, of resistance and of revolution ? 
Shall we say it is always the duty of the subject to sub- 
mit to government, no matter how oppressive and tyran- 
nical, how unjust, or even how impious ? Does the mere 
fact that a corrupt and tyrannical government exists, give 
it the right always to exist ? 

This will hardly be maintained, even by the most con- 
servative theorist. Indeed, Dr. Paley himself, when he 
comes to consider the practical question of the right of 
resistance, goes quite as far as the most earnest advocate 
of poj^ular rights would care to go in this direction. Re- 
garding government, as he does, to be purely a matter 
of expediency, and not of the nature of a social contract, 
the justice of every j^articular case of resistance, he affirms, 
" is reduced to a computation of the quantity of the dan- 
ger and grievance on the one side, and of the probability 
and expense of redressing it on the other." 

"But who shall judge of this?" he continues. "We 
answer, ^JEvery man for himself^ In contentions between 
the sovereign and the subject, the parties acknowledge 
no common arbitrator; and it would be absurd to refer 
the decision to those^ whose conduct has provoked the 
question, and whose own interest, authority, and fate, are 
immediately concerned in it." 

Indeed, Dr. Paley claims it as a special advantage of 
the doctrine of expediency over that of all implied com- 
pacts and covenants, of whatsoever sort, that it furnishes 
an easy answer to the question, under what circumstances 
resistance and revolution are allowable. He states the 
following, among other inferences from that doctrine, bear- 
ing upon the present question : '-'■It may he as much a 
duty, at one time^ to resist government^ as it is, at another, 
to obey it y to wit, whenever more advantage will, in our 



TO THE STATE. 



279 



opinion, accrue to the community from resistance, than 
mischief." 

" The lawfulness of resistance, or the lawfulness of a 
revolt, does not depend alone upon the grievance which 
is sustained or feared, but also upon the probable expense 
and event of the contest." 

And again : " Ko usage, law, or authority whatever, is 
so binding, that it need or ought to be continued, when 
it may be changed with advantage to the community." 

This is surely sufficiently explicit, and sufficiently revo- 
lutionary. It is difficult to see how the doctrine of a 
social compact could lead to results more thoroughgoing, 
and more radical, than these. With the general doctrine 
here advanced, that resistance is, at times, a duty, I fully 
agree ; and also that it must be left with the people to 
decide when the proper time has come for such resistance. 
But that, in deciding this important point, we have only, 
or chiefly, to take into account the expense, and the prob- 
able issue of the contest, as weighed against the amount 
of grievance, admits of question. There may be other 
and more important considerations, as it seems to me, than 
even these ; and I can conceive of cases, not of improb- 
able occurrence, in which resistance would be the duty of 
the people, or the citizen, against the most powerful odds, 
and with but the slightest prospect of success. 

The Rule and the Exception. — It must be borne in 
mind, however, in all discussions of this subject, that the 
general duty of the subject is obedience^ not resistance / 
that the latter is the exception, the former the rule ; and 
that, while cases may occur which shall render the excep- 
tion justifiable, a steady adherence to the rule is, imder 
ordinary circumstances, the only wise and safe course. 
There is certainly more danger, at least in any free and 



280 



DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT 



intelligent community, that the people, jealous of their 
rights, and forgetful of their obligations, will be lacking 
in the duty of obedience to constituted authority, than 
that they will be wanting in the spirit of manly resistance 
to unjust and arbitrary rule. The tendency, it must be 
confessed, in our own country, at the present time, is 
rather to a want than to an excess of reverence for and 
loyalty to established institutions and forms of govern- 
ment, and especially for that which is the foundation of 
all, the constitution. 

Obedience enjoined in Scripture. — The word of God 
is very explicit on this point. We are directed to submit 
ourselves " to every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake ; 
v/hether it be to the king, as supreme, or unto governors, 
as unto them that are sent by him for the punishment of 
evil-doers, and for the praise of them that do well. For 
so is the will of God," etc. (1 Peter ii. 13—15). And 
still more explicitly: "Let every soul be subject unto the 
higher powers. For there is no power but of God : the 
powers that be are ordained of God. Whosoever, there- 
fore, resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God ; 
and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation. 
For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. 
Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? do that which 
is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same ; for he is 
the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do 
that which is evil, be afraid ; for he beareth not the sword 
in vain ; for he is the minister of God, a revenger to exe- 
cute wrath upon him that doeth evil. Wherefore, ye 
must needs be subject not only for wrath, but also for 
conscience' sake. For, for this cause, pay you tribute 
also; for they are God's ministers, attending continually 
upon this very thing. Render, therefore, to all their 



TO THE STATE. 



281 



dues, — tribute to whom tribute is due, custom to whom 
custom, fear to whom fear, honor to whom honor " (Rom. 
xiii. 1—7). 

These passages might seem, at first sight, to teach the 
doctrine of unhmited and passive obedience. Such, I 
think, cannot be the intention of the sacred writers; but 
rather, as Paley justly remarks, to set forth the duty of 
obedience to civil government, without describing the 
extent of it. 

They place before the Christian disciple the duty of sub- 
mission and obedience, not to this or that particular form 
of government, but to the established authority of the 
land in which he dwells. They inculcate this duty in the 
same way, and on the same ground, as the duty of obedi- 
dience to parental authority in the family. It was no joart 
of the object of the writers, in these passages, to point out 
exceptions, but only to enforce the rule. We are not to 
infer from this, however, that in all cases whatsoever obe- 
dience is a duty, and resistance a sin. In the words of an 
able, but cautious and conservative writer, — Whewell, — 
" These passages do not at all show that in any state it 
may not be the duty of the powers that he to alter the 
laws, to appoint new magistrates, new magistracies, and 
the like ; and allowable in extreme cases, in cases of neces- 
sity, to alter the constitution of the country, or to depose 
the sovereign." 

3. Support and Defen-ce. — To obey, is not the whole 
duty of the citizen. The civil authority is to be main- 
tained by needful supplies, and, if need be, defended 
against foreign aggression. To this end, taxes may justly 
be levied, whether directly, or in the shape of duties im- 
posed on articles of commerce; and to all such regula- 
tions looking to the necessary fiscal revenues of the gov- 

24* 



282 



DUTIES OF THE SUBJECT 



eminent, the citizen ought willingly to submit. The state 
cannot exist for any length of time, nor the affairs of gov- 
ernment be administered, without resources. In some 
form, its expenses must be provided for by the citizens ; and 
in whatever mode this may be done, it is the duty of every 
man to bear his fair proportion of the expense. Evasion 
of the laws which regulate this matter, is as really dishon- 
orable, and immoral, as evasion of any laws respecting 
property. To cheat the government, is as really a fraud as 
to cheat a j)rivate person. It is even a greater dishonesty, 
and a more serious crime, inasmuch as the rights of the 
state are of more dignity and impoi'tance than those of 
the individual. When my dishonesty goes no further 
than to take the property of my neighbor, I defraud one 
man only; when it extends to the property of govern- 
ment, I defraud the whole community. Tribute to whom 
tribute is due, is the rule of the sacred Scriptures. We 
are to render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, no 
less than to God the things that are God's. 

Not less is it the duty of the citizen to defend the state, 
if need be, from personal violence. In repelling aggression 
from without, or sustaining, by j^ersonal service, civil or 
military, the authority of government against sedition and 
rebellion, — against lawlessness and anarchy within its own 
borders, — the aid of the citizen may be necessary. The 
good and true citizen, who understands well what he owes 
to himself, and to society, will never hesitate in such an 
emergency. At the call of his country, in defence of law 
and justice, in defence of the state to which he owes alle- 
giance, he will be ready to sacrifice, if need be, all personal 
considerations of ease, safety, or profit, and lay upon the 
altar of freedom and of the right, himself and whatever 
he has. 



DUTIES OF THE STATE. 



283 



CHAPTER lY. 

DUTIES OF THE STATE TO ITS SUBJECTS. 

It is to be borne in mind that the state, as already de- 
fined, is simply a society or community, dwelling together 
in the same territory, and organized for purposes of gov- 
ernment. When we inquire, then, for the duties of the 
state to its subjects, we are simply inquiring what duties 
the whole society, or the aggregate of individuals, as thus 
organized, owes to each of its members. To this, a plain 
and obviously correct reply, comprehensive of all, is this : 
It is the duty of the state to protect every one of its sub- 
jects in all his proper rights / in other words, to do what 
it virtually engages and promises to do, by the terms of 
its constitution, or social compact. 

The question, T7hat are the proper rights of the subject? 
may admit of various oj^inions. They may be more or 
less exjDressly guaranteed to him in the laws and constitu- 
tion of his country ; and in different states these may vary. 
There can be no question, however, as to the general posi- 
tion that it is the duty of the state to carry out and fulfill 
the specific objects for which it was created. IVhatever is 
necessary to secure the great ends for ichich it exists^ — 
ichatever is necessary for the highest good of all, — this it 
has the right to do, and ought to do. This is a duty 
which it owes to the whole, and to each individual. 

Genercd Sphere of State Authority. — Within the lim- 
its now specified, the authority of the state is complete and 
supreme. So far as the constitution allows, and the public 
good requires, it may coerce, restrain, and punish ; may 
impose taxes ; regulate the tenure and transmission of 
property; promote industry, education, religion; declare 



284 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



Avar ; personally, it may, in all suitable ways, secure to 
each citizen the enjoyment of the highest freedom consist- 
ent with the freedom and rights of others. These, in 
general, are its rights and duties. 

Beyond the limits now indicated, the state is out of its 
proper sphere. It has to do with its subjects, not as men, 
but as citizens. Its end and aim, as a state, are single, — 
that is, to secure the liberty and the rights of all its mem- 
bers. It is wholly a political organization. With the in- 
tellectual elevation and culture, the moral character, the 
religious opinions, the personal prosperity and happiness 
of its subjects, — except so far as these are related to the 
one specific end, the civil liberty and rights of the whole, — 
it has no direct concern. It desires and promotes all these 
things, not as ends, but only as means to an end. As 
such, they come properly within its cognizance, and are of 
the highest moment in its councils and consideration. 

Even within these limits the state has no right to 
demand impossibilities ; nor yet, in securing its object, to 
legislate against the principles of moral right, or against 
the known will of God. When it oversteps, or comes into 
collision with these immutable and eternal principles, its 
authority ceases, its sceptre is broken — the sword is 
stricken from its hand, and the crown from its brow. 

We shall obtain a clearer and more definite view of the 
proper duties of the state with respect to its own rights, if 
we consider specifically some of the more important ob- 
jects which fall directly, or indirectly, within its sphere of 
action, — among which may be included right of taxation ; 
^prohibitory laws ; personal freedom of thought, speech, and 
action ; prevention and punishment of crime ; promotion of 
industry, in its various branches; education, and religion. 

1. Taxes. — It is the duty of the state to sustain itself, 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



285 



and to take whatever measures are necessary in order to 
this. For this purpose, it has the right to impose taxes and 
imposts, so far as may be necessary for its own support. 
The manner in which its revenues shall be raised, whether 
by direct tax, or by a system of duties on exports, or on 
imports, or in any other mode, and also the amount of reve- 
nue that sliall be thus granted, are matters which may be 
safely left to the wisdom and discretion of each state to 
determine for itself. In no case, however, has the state a 
right to levy taxes that are oppressive and severe, or to 
distribute the burden of them unequally and unjustly upon 
any class or j)ortion of the community. The tax ought, 
moreover, to be strictly for 7;>i«5/«c, and not for private ends; 
and the persons thus taxed have the right to be in some 
way represented in the state. In the case of non-residents, 
or foreigners, and also of widows, and unmarried women 
possessing property within the state, the tax may perhaps 
be justly required, without such representation, on the 
ground of a fair equivalent for the protection of the 
property. 

2. Prohibitory Laws. — It is the duty of the state to 
prohibit and prevent whatever is injurious to the public 
welfare, whether directly, as affecting the civil rights and 
liberties, or indirectly, as affecting the health, morals, or 
lives of the community. Its office is to guard all these in- 
terests and rights against encroachment ; and in order to 
this, it must, if needful, enact and enforce laws prohibitory 
and sanitary. No member of society has a right to pursue 
any calling or profession, or make any use of his property, 
that shall put in jeopardy the safety, the property, the lives, 
of others. Neither his property, nor even his life, is his 
own in any such sense as that ; and when, disregarding the 
rights and interests of others, he persists in that which is 



286 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



to the common injury, the state, through its proper officers, 
may and ought to restrain him. This extends to all 
branches of manufacture and of trade that may be of hurt- 
ful tendency; to gaming-houses, and all establishments 
of vice and dissipation ; to immoral publications ; to what- 
ever is injurious to public peace and virtue — to the health, 
happiness, and freedom of society. It embraces, also, such 
laws and regulations as may be for the health and safety of 
town or city in time of pestilence or prevailing disease. 
All these are matters of the highest importance to the 
public good, and they are of such a nature as to require 
the attention and energy of the public authorities. 
Merely private effort cannot accomplish, in most cases, the 
end that is desired. Even if individuals of sufficient be- 
nevolence and wisdom could be found to undertake such 
measures, private interests would almost inevitably come 
into collision with any plans they might adopt. The strong 
arm and authority of the state are necessary in all such 
undertakings. 

3. Personal Freedom. — The state ought to leave the 
individual free to do anything not inconsistent with the 
general good. It ought not only to abstain in its own 
transactions from whatever would interfere with this free- 
dom of the citizen, but it ought to secure to him this 
freedoni, and protect him in it, so far as regards his rela- 
tion to other persons. It has no right to deprive him, or to 
allow him to be deprived by others, of personal liberty, 
unless for crime, or insanity, or the like cause, which would 
render his going at large dangerous to the community. 

On the same principle, it ought not to deprive him of the 
privilege of laboring at whatever honest employment or 
profession he chooses ; nor to throw obstacles in the way 
of his changing his trade or profession, if he is disposed to 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



287 



try some other. These are matters which should be left 
open to the choice of the citizen, and with which govern- 
ment has no right to interfere. 

Nor has the state a right to prevent the citizen from 
changing his place of residence, or even to throw obstacles 
in the way of his leaving the country altogether, and 
migrating to some other land, if he sees fit. This power 
is exercised by many of the arbitrary governments of the 
Old World, but it is a despotic and unjust power. The 
state has no right to say to its subjects, "You must live 
here, and not elsewhere." 

The law of personal liberty applies also to freedom of 
speech, and of the press. These are undoubted rights of 
the citizen within the limits already indicated. I have no 
right, indeed, to say or to publish that which will be to the 
injury of others, in respect to business, social standing, or 
moral character; and whatever of this sort one is disposed 
to utter, or to print, that shall tend to the public detriment, 
it is the duty of the civil authority to forbid and prevent 
the same. Aside from this necessary restriction, it is the 
duty of the state to ensure and maintain the utmost liberty 
of thought, speech, and action, to its subjects. 

4. ENcfouRAGEMENT OF INDUSTRY. — It is the duty of 
the state to foster and encourage every branch of honest 
industry. Much may be done by the public authority to 
this end. Agriculture, commerce, manufactures, the me- 
chanic and the liberal arts, — every pursuit, indeed, in which 
men engage, may be materially aided, or seriously embar- 
rassed, by the action of government. Wise or unwise legis- 
lation has much to do with the prosperity of the country 
in all branches of industry. It is the duty of government, 
by all suitable and proper methods, to encourage and aid 
every industrial pursuit which is not clearly incompatible 



288 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



with the public welfare. It should, at least, throw no ob- 
stacles in the way of an honest calling. It ought to admin- 
ister its affairs with impartial and even-handed justice, 
toward all sections of the country, and all the various pur- 
suits and conflicting interests of the same, favoring no one 
at the expense of the others ; but, by wise and impartial 
legislation, extending, so far as possible, to all, the utmost 
facilities and encouragements. It should never interfere 
with private enterprise, nor seek to turn the trade and in- 
dustry of the country in any other than the natural chan- 
nels, for political or party purposes. In all such measures 
and attempts, it is clearly out of its proper sphere. 

There are, moreover, certain great public improvements, 
which cannot well be carried on by individual enterprise, 
and which, therefore, require the aid of government. Har- 
bors may be improved, light-houses constructed, rivers 
rendered navigable, and various works of great public 
benefit be set on foot, which would be either too arduous, 
or two little remunerative, for private capital and enterprise 
to undertake. It is maintained, however, by many, and 
apparently with justice, that in no case ought works of 
this character to be undertaken by the state, where private 
or corporate action is available; inasmuch as the public 
resources may be more profitably employed in other ways ; 
and inasmuch, also, as these very enterprises, when not too 
arduous to be undertaken by private capitalists, will be 
much more economically managed by individual enterprise 
than by the state. 

5. Peeyentiot^ and Punishment of Crime. — This 
is one of the most important duties devolving upon the 
state. Whether we regard civil government as founded 
in expediency, or the divine will, or in social compact, or 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



289 



as resting on all these combined, in either case there rests 
upon it, as a first and most imperative obligation, the duty 
of protecting its subjects against the lawlessness and vio- 
lence that would otherwise endanger person, property, 
and life. This is one of the chief objects to be secured 
by the institution of civil government — one of the chief 
ends for which it exists. For this purpose laws are en- 
acted, specifying and forbidding all violation of the rights 
of others. Whatever is thus forbidden, becomes, in the 
eye of the law, a crime. But law without sanctions or 
penalties annexed, is no law, but only counsel, and more 
or less plausible advice. It becomes law only when, in 
addition to the precept, there is affixed a penalty for trans- 
gression. And the value of the law depends mainly on 
two things, — its inherent rightness or justice as prece23t 
or prohibition, and also the firmness and certainty with 
which its sanctions are enforced. If either of these con- 
ditions fail, it becomes a virtual nullity. 

To call in question, then, the right of government to 
punish crime, is virtually to call in question its right to 
exist. Take away this, and society relapses into barba- 
rism — every man taking the defence of his rights into his 
own hand. 

But, aside from the general view now presented, there 
are two or three points requiring more particular consid- 
eration, such as the proper end of punishment, its proper 
mode and degree of severity^ and the amount of evidence 
necessary to convict of crime. 

JEnd of Punishment. — And first, as to the proper end 
of human punishment. What is the object in view, in 
the infliction of punishment for crime ? Is it the satisfac- 
tion of justice, which demands the punishment of the 
offender as, in some sense, a compensation for the crime ? 

25 



290 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



Or, is it disciplinary, aiming at the reformation of the 
offender ? Or, is it simply with a view to prevent futm-e 
offences, by impressing the public mind with a just and 
salutary fear of the consequences of evil-doing? Here 
are three different explanations, or theories, of the proj^er 
end of human punishment ; the first makes it retributive., 
the second reformatory., the third lyreventive. 

At the hands of a strictly righteous God, guilt is ex- 
l^ected to receive, and justice demands that it should 
receive, punishment ; and the penalty must be in propor- 
tion to the guilt. Such penalty, or suffering inflicted on 
account of guilt, is termed retributive. 

It is not, however, on this princij^le that human gov- 
ernments proceed. The object of society, in the infliction 
of punishment, is not to satisfy the abstract demands of 
justice; nor yet is it to vindicate the injured sovereignty 
of the law ; nor to make amends for the mischief done, — 
for that is often irreparable, and the punishment of the 
offender has no tendency to make good the injury already 
committed. Punishment then, as inflicted by human gov- 
ernments,, is not in its nature retributive. 

Much less is it reformative in its character and design. 
The end for which punishment is inflicted is not the re- 
pentance and reformation of the criminal, however desir- 
able that may be. It is not for this purpose that govern- 
ment exists. It has a higher end than the discij^line of 
individuals. There are other influences and institutions 
that look to that, and exist for that. Government has to 
do, not with the reformation and moral culture of the 
individual, but with the public welfare, and the public 
freedom; and these may often require that the benefit of 
the individual who has committed the crime should be 
disregarded, for the sake of the public benefit. Imprison- 
ment, confiscation of property, or death, may be of no ben- 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



291 



efit personally to liim, but quite the reverse ; that is not 
the question; there are higher ends and interests to be 
j^romoted, than his own good. Were it otherwise, the 
more hardened and depraved the criminal, the less reason 
for his punishment, since the less prospect of his reforma- 
tion. On this principle, moreover, our |)risons and peni- 
tentiaries, our courts of justice, and all the machinery of 
government, are but so many benevolent and charitable 
institutions, and are to be ranked in the same category 
with sabbath schools and missionary operations. This is 
certainly a very inadequate idea of the nature of civil 
government, and of the object of legal sanctions. Pun- 
ishment is not reformative. 

The simple reason why society inflicts punishment on 
those who disturb its peace, is, that it finds it necessary to 
do so for its own safety, in the prevention of crime. It 
inflicts penalty upon the evil-doer, because it has threat- 
ened to do so. It threatens penalty, because, without such 
declaration, law would be inoperative and null. It makes 
law^ because, without it, there Vv^ere no government, and 
no such thing as society. If there be government at all, 
there must be law ; if law, there must be legal sanctions ; 
and if sanctions, then they must be rigidly enforced. The 
same reasons, then, which make civil government a neces- 
sity, make punishment a necessity, — i. e., the safety of the 
community, and the prevention of crime. 

Not only is the criminal himself, or he who is already 
disposed to transgress, deterred from so doing by the cer- 
tainty that, if detected, he will suffer the inevitable pen- 
alty and just desert of his offences, but by every example 
of this sort a salutary fear is awakened in other minds, by 
perceiving the ruinous consequences of a course of crime. 
By all such influences is society the gainer ; nor is it pos- 



292 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



sible to dispense with these influences, and still conserve 
the peace and welfare of society. 

Mode and Degree of Punishment. — The end for which 
punishment is inflicted goes far to determine the proper 
mode and degree of its infliction. If the guilt of the 
offender be the motive for punishment, or the satisfaction 
of justice the end in view, then the punishment should 
be, of course, in proportion to the guilt. The simple in- 
quiry that should regulate the whole ]3roceeding should 
be: what, and how much, does the criminal deserve to 
suffer. And this might seem to be the just and true 
mode of j)rocedure. A little observation, however, will 
be sufficient to convince any one that such is not the 
principle on which civil government administers its penal 
sanctions. The most guilty, and those most deserving 
of punishment, are not always most severely punished. 
Reference is had, not so much to the degree of guilt in 
the offender, as to the nature of the offence, the danger 
of its repetition, the difficulty of detecting and of j)re- 
venting it, and the like circumstances. The man who 
betrays a solemn trust confided to him, or who habitually 
exercises unkindness and severity in his family govern- 
ment, or who refuses an act of benevolence, to save hu- 
man life, or to relieve human suffering, may be really more 
guilty, or more deserving of punishment, so far as strict 
justice is concerned, than he who counterfeits a bank note, 
or steals to satisfy the cravings of hunger. But for the 
former, law has no penalty ; for the latter, a severe one. 

The facility with which any crime may be committed, 
and the consequent difficulty, and at the same time neces- 
sity, of preventing it, are the considerations chiefly in view 
in the regulation and distribution of punishment. The 
end of human government, of law, and of penal sane- 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



293 



tions being one and tlie same, — i. e., tlie protection of tlio 
commiiuity, and tlie prevention of crime, — whatever tends 
most directly to this end, is the measure most likely to be 
adopted, and that rightly. If the end can be accomplished, 
that is, the crime prevented and society protected, by some 
other means than by the punishment of the offender, then 
punishment may be dispensed with, notwithstanding the 
guilt and ill-desert of the offender in a moral point of 
view. If the offence be one liable to occur at any time, 
difficult of detection and of proof, and yet of great mis- 
chief to society, i)unishment becomes necessary as a means 
of prevention ; and the punishment must be more or less 
severe, according as more or less may be required in order 
to effect this end. Thus, by the laws of some countries, 
the stealing of a sheep, or a horse, is punished with death 
— not because these crimes are considered as involving 
equal guilt with that of murder, but because, on account 
of the ease with which these and the like offences can be 
committed and concealed, nothing short of the severest 
penalties seemed sufficient to deter the evil-minded from 
their commission. This disproportion between the degree 
of punishment and the degree of ill-desert, is, perhaps, 
a necessary part of the imperfection of all human govern- 
ments. The supreme and omniscient Ruler and Judge, 
whose eye penetrates the darkest recesses of guilt, from 
whose vigilance nothing can escape, and whose justice 
will bring to certain punishment whatever crime is com- 
mitted, may, and will, doubtless, graduate that punish- 
ment according to the real guilt of the criminal. But no 
human government can do this. 

Frequency of Punishment. — As to the frequency with 
which the severest punishments — as, for example, capital 
punishment, or imprisonment for life, at hard labor or in 

25* 



294 



DUTIES OE THE STATE 



solitude — should be employed, there is room for ques- 
tion. It is a matter of exj)ediency, and must be deter- 
mined by careful observation. Beyond doubt, the severest 
jDenalties are fully within the power of civil government, 
and may be justly and rightly called into requisition, 
whenever they are necessary for the true purposes of 
government, — that is, for the safety and welfare of the 
state. The laws of many countries — of England, for 
example — seem to me to have erred, by the too fre- 
quent use of the severest penalties; on the other hand, 
our own may not improbably have erred in the other 
extreme. In the words of Dr. Hickok : " Life itself is 
not so sacred as that for which life is given; and if the 
opportunity to attain the ends of human life cannot be 
maintained but by the infliction of death upon such as 
disturb it, the state is bound, by its mission to human- 
ity, to inflict that extreme penalty. If the state refuse to 
do this when the public sentiment demands it, the pop- 
ulace, in its frenzy, under the excitement of some fresh 
deed of cruelty and blood, will take the work into its 
own hands, and summarily despatch the obnoxious mal- 
efactor. It may be argued that summary jDunishments 
tend to make the people barbarous; but, in the one crime 
of murder, it is a more important and probable opinion 
that a disuse of capital punishment will directly tend to 
demoralize the public. The conviction that the murderer 
deserves to die, must be met by the civil sanction, or the 
very teachings and influence of the law will be to lower 
the standard of pure morality, and deprave the public 
sentiment, by making the life of man less sacred in the 
statute-book than it is in the natural conscience." 

Evidence Necessary to Conviction. — It becomes a seri- 
ous, and often a difficult question, what amount of evidence 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



295 



is requisite to conviction. On the one hand, there is the 
danger that, by the mistake or dishonesty of the witness, 
or the prejudice of the juror, the innocent may be pun- 
ished in place of the guilty ; on the other hand, the equal, 
or even greater danger, that, by some flaw in the evidence, 
or some artifice of the pleader, the criminal, of whose guilt 
there can be no reasonable doubt in the mind of judge or 
jury, shall be turned loose upon society, and thus the real 
j)ower and proper office of justice be thwarted. 

It is ever to be borne in mind, that the prevention of 
crime depends not so much on the severity, as on the cer-. 
tainty of punishment. The laws of England, for example, 
which prescribe the penalty of death for a great number 
of offences, but actually inflict it on but a small portion of 
the number, seem but poorly calculated for the prevention 
of crime, inasmuch as the criminal 23resumes, in the first 
place, — in common with most of those who meditate any 
violation of the laws, — that he^ shall not be detected; and 
then, that, if detected, the extreme penalty will in his case 
be remitted, as it has already been in so many others, and 
some milder punishment substituted in its place. Were 
that milder penalty threatened in the first instance, and 
then invariably executed, the certainty of the result would 
probably be more effective than the present uncertainty of 
a much more severe infliction. 

Now, nothing tends so directly to destroy all certainty 
of punishment, as any difficulty attending the conviction 
of the guilty. Whatever stands in the way of the convic- 
tion of the criminal, stands in the way of his punishment. 
If such an amount of evidence is required, in order to con- 
viction, as shall in most cases be impossible, or next to 
impossible, to procure, the effect is the same as if the law, 
with its penalties, were blotted from the statute-book, and 
society left unprotected against crime. 



296 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



Viewed in this aspect, it admits of serious question, 
whether, in our anxiety to avoid the infliction of unjust 
punishment, we have not, in this country, carried to a dan- 
gerous extreme the doctrine that the accused is entitled 
to the benefit of any and every reasonable doubt of his 
guilt. 

There are very few, if indeed there are any cases, prob- 
ably, in which the proof of guilt is so clear, and perfectly 
conclusive, as to leave no room for doubt in the mind of 
any one ; and yet, if any one of twelve men entertains such 
doubt, however slight and unfounded it may be in reality, 
conviction becomes impossible. Even in the case of posi- 
tive testimony, setting aside all circumstantial evidence, as 
being still more open to objection, there will always be 
more or less possibility of mistake, and even of dishonesty, 
on the part of the witness. Circumstances are, in fact, 
often the best and most reliable witnesses. But neither 
circumstantial, nor yet positive testimony, can, in most 
cases, be wholly beyond doubt ; and it is in the power of 
a skillful pleader, — more anxious to save his client than to 
secure the ends of justice, — by giving prominence to any 
slight defect in the chain of evidence, and by appealing 
to the conscientious scruples of the jury, and representing 
in the strongest light the painful responsibility they will 
incur, if, by any mistake, they should convict and condemn 
an innocent man, — it is in the power of a skillful advocate 
to so play in this manner upon the fears and the scruples 
of his hearers, as to secure the acquittal of those most 
deserving of punishment, and of whose guilt there can be 
really no reasonable doubt. Just in proportion as this 
takes place, the security of life and property, and whatever 
else is valuable in the community, is destroyed, and society 
is thrown back into a state of lawlessness and barbarism. 

But, is it not better that nine guilty men should escape, 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



29T 



than that one innocent man should suffer? Of this I am 
not so sure. Better for the guilty, very possibly, it may be ; 
whether it is better for society, admits of serious question. 
It may be better that now and then an innocent man suffer, 
than that the guilty should generally go unpunished. The 
question amounts virtually to this: whether, as respects 
the greatest crimes, it is better to have any law, and any 
penalty, or to leave society to take care of itself, in the 
best Avay it can, without any such safeguards. 

6. Edfcatio2t. — What is the duty of the state as re- 
gards the education of its subjects? We have already 
seen that the state, as such, is directly concerned only with 
the civil rights and privileges of the subject, and not with 
his intellectual, moral, or religious character; and that it 
has to do with these latter only in so far as they may bear 
upon the former, by making the man a better citizen and a 
better subject. So intimate, however, and so important is 
this connection, that it can be by no means overlooked. It 
is impossible that the state should reach its highest point 
of prosperity, should realize the true idea of a fi^ee and 
noble state, without intelligence and virtue in the commu- 
nity. In proportion to the education and general intelli- 
gence of the people, in connection with their moral and 
religious culture, will be the amount of liberty enjoyed ; 
because in this proportion will be their ability to under- 
stand, and their disposition to maintain, their rights. Nei- 
ther an ignorant people, nor yet an irreligious people, are 
competent for self-government. Hence the importance to 
the state of the o^eneral diffusion of knowleds^e amons^ the 
people, and of some system of education looking to this 
end. It is almost a necessity of its own existence, that 
some system of this kind should be in successful operation. 



298 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



Hence the right and duty of the state to take measures 
for this purpose. 

But why, it may be asked, should the state trouble itself 
in this matter ? Why may not the business of education 
be safely left to the voluntary action of the peoj^le, in their 
several communities ? This might well be, I reply, in case 
there Avere already given a people of so much education 
and general intelligence as to feel the importance «of such 
action ; but this is more than can, in most cases, be safely 
presumed. When education has already done its work 
in the elevation of the community, it may be safely left 
to such a community to provide for the intellectual culture 
and training of those who come after them. But it is for 
the state to set in operation the causes which shall produce 
this result ; nor ought the state, under any circumstances, 
to relinquish all care and control of a matter so intimately 
connected with its own permanence, and highest pros- 
perity. 

Diffey^ent Methods of AccompUsliing this. — The man- 
ner in which this object can best be accomplished, will vary, 
doubtless, in different states, and, to some extent, in the 
same state, in different stages of its progress. In all cases 
it should be a systematic and thorough, rather than any 
desultory and superficial system of measures. Means 
should be provided for the education, and the thorough 
education, of all classes of the community — the jDOor, as 
well as the rich — in at least the common and most indis- 
pensable branches of learning. In addition to this, col- 
leges, and other institutions of a higher grade, should be 
encouraged, and, if necessary, supported for a time, by the 
state. 

In order to provide and put in operation such a system 
of general education, the state has the right to expend the 
jjublic money, or to levy a direct tax for the j)urpose on 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



299 



those who are to receive the benefit, or to make it obliga- 
tory on each separate community to provide for itself the 
requisite means for sustaining the needed schools within 
its limits ; and whichever mode be adopted, the public has 
no right to complain, or to refuse consent and hearty 
cooperation. The state has the right, also, to at least a 
general supervision and control of the whole educational 
movement, and of each institution or school founded under 
its care and patronage; it is entitled to a voice in the 
selection of teachers, and of books, and in the general 
management and course of instruction. It has also the 
right to require attendance upon the means provided, 
when, from the ignorance or prejudice of the community, 
or from any other cause, the advantages thus offered are 
not likely to be improved. 

Possible Disagreement. — In thus regulating the order 
and course of instruction of its schools, the state may find 
itself sometimes in collision with individual opinions, and 
prejudices, in matters of religious belief One man, of pe- 
culiar views, may object to the recognition of the Divine 
Being in the ordinary devotional exercises of the school, 
or in any of its teachings; another, to the use of the 
sacred Scriptures in any form ; another still, to the Protes- 
tant version of the same. In the solution of all such diffi- 
culties, but one rule can be recognized. The state, — that is, 
the body of the people, — acting through its constituted 
authorities, has the right to decide all such matters. If 
the state be Infidel, it has the right to exclude all religious 
teachings, and all reference to the Supreme Being, from its 
schools ; if it be Catholic, it may shape its educational 
system accordingly; if Jewish or Mohammedan, it has 
still the same right ; if it be none of these, but Protestant, 
it has the right to use Protestant forms, and Protestant 
books, and inculcate, so far as it chooses, Protestant notions, 



800 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



in its various educational establishments. It is the duty 
of the individual, in such cases, to yield to the will of the 
majority ; or if he cannot conscientiously fall in with the 
jDrescribed order, and with the customs of those around 
him, in such matters, he should peaceably withdraw from 
all joarticipation in the system ; and this he should always 
be allowed to do. But nothing is more absurd, or contra- 
dictory to the whole spirit and theory of civil government, 
than that a small minority, often a mere handful in the 
state, should undertake to dictate to the whole people in 
such matters ; and no state that has a proper regard for its 
own dignity, or any just conception of its rights and 
duties, will for a moment allow any such interference 
with its own proper prerogative. 

7. Religion. — The duty of the state with respect to 
the moral and rehgious condition of its subjects, is a mat- 
ter of much moment, and of some considerable difficulty. 
Man is not only a political, but also a religious being; 
that is, he has a moral nature, as well as a social and poht- 
ical one ; has hopes, and fears, and motives of action, drawn 
from this source; and these are often the strongest and 
most active principles of his nature. A man entirely unin- 
fluenced by religious considerations is a man who does 
violence to his own nature, or else that nature is entirely 
and sadly perverted. 

In what relation, now, shall government stand to its sub- 
jects in this matter? How shall it treat their religious 
convictions and beliefs? What position shall it assume 
with respect to the moral and religious character, the 
moral and religious education and training, of those who 
compose the state ? Shall it show itself quite indifferent 
to the whole matter ; or shall it go further, and oppose all 
religious institutions, and religious culture; or, knowing 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



301 



bow intimately its own stability and prosperity depend on 
tbe religions cbaracter and culture of tlie people, sball it 
set itself directly about the business of promoting these, 
by establishing religious institutions, and teaching religi- 
ous truths, even as it provides for the intellectual educa- 
tion of its subjects? These are questions of serious mo- 
ment, and not altogether easy of solution. 

The matter is still further complicated by the fact that 
there is frequently a great diversity of religious opinion and 
belief among the people. If there were but one prevail- 
ing religious system, and the great body of the people 
were united in that form or communion, it would greatly 
facilitate the decision of the question before us. As it is, 
the community — divided into many different and often 
rival religious sects — with which of all these, if with any, 
shall the state ally itself? or how can it exert that influence 
which it may wish to exert in religious matters ? how can 
it, as a state, possess any religious character whatever, and 
not ally itself with some particular form and system, with 
some one church or sect ? 

Different Courses 2^ossihIe. — Evidently there are three 
different courses of procedure possible to the state in this 
mattef ; — that of entire indifference, or even opposition, 
to all religious culture ; that of a fiir and impartial protec- 
tion of all religious sects and systems, witliout the adop- 
tion of any ; and, finally, the selection and establishment 
of some one as the state religion. Each of these methods 
of procedure may claim some advantages; each, on the 
other hand, is liable to objections. 

And firsts shall the state proclaim itself indifferent to 
all religious things, systems, and sects — all effort for the 
moral and religious education of the people? Shall it 
ignore all these matters, suffering them to exist, but taking 

26 



302 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



no cognizance of them — even as it knows nothing of the 
private and personal affairs of its citizens, their occupation 
and profession, their prosperity and failure in business, 
their social and domestic affairs, with all which, and a 
thousand like matters, it has, as a state, nothing whatever 
to do ? 

It is not possible, I reply, for the state to be entirely 
indifferent to this whole matter. It is of some conse- 
quence to it, whether its subjects have any religious belief, 
and religious character, or not ; whether they are educated 
in the knowledge of the highest and most important of all 
truths, or are wholly ignorant of them ; whether they be- 
lieve in, and worship, Mohammed, Brahma, or Jehovah, or 
are without any belief, and any God. It cannot afford to be 
wholly indifferent to, and ignorant of, such matters as these. 
Shall it provide for the intellectual education of its peo- 
ple, and care nothing for their moral and religious culture ? 
Has the latter less to do than the former with the vital 
prosperity of the civil institutions — with the very founda- 
tions of their j)ermanence and their strength ? 

Nor can the state be itself wholly without a religion. 
Its own highest ends cannot be secured without direct ap- 
23eal to the religious sentiment, and the moral nature of 
man. It must acknowledge a personal God, a future state, 
and retribution hereafter for the sins of this life, or it can- 
not even administer an oath. It must, by its public acts, 
recognize this God as a proper object of worship; author- 
ize such homage as is suitable to him on special occasions ; 
and honor, in its official capacity, the sacred days, and 
sacred writings. " No civil government," it has been well 
said, " can stand in the neglect of all religion, and no com- 
munity can maintain its freedom without a government 
thus, in some way, acknowledging a religion." 

It is of the highest consequence, moreover, that the re- 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



303 



ligion which the state recognizes should be the true one ; 
since, although a false religion may be better than none, 
the true one is better than either. 

The state cannot, then, be indifferent to the religion of 
its citizens, nor wholly without a religion of its own. 

The Second Method. — Shall it, then, adopt the second 
course? Placed under a necessity of recognizing some 
religion, and anxious that its subjects should cooperate 
with it, in giving to the sanctions and sentiments of a pure 
faith their full force on the public mind and conscience, 
shall it set itself, by direct means, to propagate religious 
truth, by establishing, or taking under its special patron- 
age, some one form of religious belief and worshi]), mak- 
ing that the state religion and the state church, and 
seeking to educate the j)eople in it, and through it, as a 
means of reliorious culture ? Such a course mig^ht seem to 
promise some advantages. It will give definiteness to the 
religious sentiment and action of the state. It will enable 
the state to avail itself directly of the offices of the minis- 
ters of religion, in any way that it sees fit, as important 
ends in accomplishing its purposes. It can shape to its 
own liking the moral and religious education of the peo- 
ple, and secure a higher degree of general religious culture. 
It can, in a word, control, to a greater extent than before, 
and that in various ways, the religious element in society. 

But then, again, is there no danger from this very 
source? Is it safe to j)lace in the hands of the civil au- 
thority the control of the religious element in society; 
thus making the church, the clergy, the system of reli- 
gious education, and the public conscience, subservient 
to the designs of the state, — so many tools, by which it 
can better accomplish its purposes ? Is there no danger 
that such power will be abused ? 

As a matter of fact, such an arrangement will be likely 



304 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



to lead to one or the other of two results, — either the 
religious organization will become the dominant power in 
the state, and freedom will suffer; or the civil authority 
will predominate, and the religious element become the 
mere instrument of its policy. In the one case, we shall 
have a people subjected to priestly dictation, — the worst 
and most oppressive, because most bigoted, of all forms 
of tyranny, — in the other case, a religion subject to the 
state, and thereby shorn of its inherent strength and 
beauty. The history of religious establishments in all 
ages verifies this supposition. We have, on the one 
hand, the Romish Church, binding in chains the human 
conscience and the human wdll wherever it can obtain 
ascendency, and crushing all freedom of thought tinder 
the iron heel of an irresponsible hierarchy ; on the other 
hand, the religious establishments of Europe, whether 
Protestant or Catholic, supported by the state, the crea= 
tures of the civil power, and losing, in j^roportion as they 
become so, their hold upon the minds and hearts of the 
great mass of the people. 

Further Objection. — A further difficulty arises, also, 
from the fact that, whatever religion the state may adopt, 
there will always be, in the ^tate, many who wdll not 
sympathize with that j^eculiar form or system, but con- 
scientiously 23refer some other, and who will therefore find 
themselves arrayed against the state, in the most sacred 
and imjDcrative of all obligations. All, of whatever belief, 
and whatever organization or sect, who do not happen to 
belong to that one church which the state has recognized, 
find themselves in the position of dissenters; and these, 
though each sect may be small in itself, may be in the ag- 
gregate the superior number, the great body, indeed, of 
the people, as regards both numbers and moral wealth and 
force; — but whether so or not, equally entitled to their 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



305 



own religious convictions, and religious forms and priv- 
ileges, and to the respect and support of the state in the 
use and enjoyment of the same, as those from whom, in 
these matters, they are compelled to differ. Under such 
circumstances, the patronage of one body by the state 
is injustice to all the rest. 

By every such instance of honest, conscientious dissent 
from the established religion of the state, is the moral 
power of the establishment weakened. Instead of com- 
manding the sympathy and cordial cooperation of all the 
religious and Avell-disposed meml^ers of society, in its ef- 
forts for the moral elevation of the people, and the dis- 
semination of sacred truth, the state, however sincere 
and earnest in such efforts, finds itself working at an 
immense disadvantage, as a rival among opposing sects. 
And the difficulty will not be diminished, but very greatly 
increased, if, forgetful of its true policy, the state should 
seek to coerce and restrain all these dissenting bodies, 
or even to force them, by j^ains and penalties, into a tacit 
subjection, a formal union, with itself. This is what Ro- 
manism has ever sought to do, when it has been the ac- 
knowledged religion of the state ; it is what some of the 
Protestant countries of Europe are still striving to accom- 
plish ; it is what Protestant England undertook, under 
Henry the Eighth, Elizabeth, and Charles the First. 

Third Method. — The only practicable method would 
seem to be, then, the plan of toleration — protecting all 
forms of religious belief, but adopting and establishing no 
one of them, to the exclusion of the rest, as the religion, 
and the church of the state. Every man must be pro- 
tected in the exercise of his religious convictions, and the 
enjoyment of his religious rights; every sect and denomi- 
nation of religious worshippers, so long as they observe 
the rules of propriety and decency, may justly claim such 

26* 



806 



DUTIES OF THE STATE 



protection at the hands of the civil jDower ; every church 
or religious organization may claim it, ^rhether Christian, 
Jewish, or other. The state has no right to interfere in 
this matter, and say to its citizens : " You must believe 
thus and thus — you must worship thus and thus — you 
must belong to this or that religious denomination, under 
penalty of incurring the displeasure of government, or 
of forfeiting such and such privileges." This does not, as 
some wi'iters suppose, — Dr. TThewell among others, — 
imply that, in the opinion of the state, all these various 
churches and systems ai*e equally false or equally true, 
equally advantageous or disadvantageous, to the public 
and the private welfare. It simply implies that all have 
just and equal claim to protection, and that the state has 
no right to interfere with a man's private rehgious opin- 
ions. 

The rule of universal toleration, as I have already im- 
jDlied, is not absolutely without its limits and exceptions. 
Should the religious convictions and usages of any class 
of men lead them to outrage public sentiment, by acts 
indecent, or blasphemous, or shocking to the common 
sense and common feeling of mankind in every civilized 
and enlightened country, the state is under no obligation 
to tolerate such outrage. It is under no obhgation to 
allow human sacrifices, or the bloody rites of paganism ; 
the burning of widows on the fimeral pile, or the bar- 
barities of the papal Auto da Fe, and Inquisition ; nor 
yet the immoralities and indecencies that have sometimes 
been practised under the plea of religion and conscience. 
The same rule holds here, as in regard to property. A 
man is to be protected in the possession and enjoyment 
of his own, up to the point where he begins to trespass 
upon the rights of others; but not a stej) beyond that. 

So, also, if any religious sect or organization should be 



TO ITS SUBJECTS. 



307 



found plotting against the liberties of the state, or teach- 
ing doctrines tending to sedition, and disaffection to right- 
ful authority, or undermining the public virtue and de- 
stroying the public peace — these, as interests dear to the 
state, and essential to its existence, are to be defended 
against such encroachments, and the authors of the mis- 
chief may rightly be proceeded against, as enemies of the 
state. 

On the other hand, the state is not to become the pro- 
IDagandist of what it may regard as the true faith ; is not 
to become missionary abroad, or missionary at home; is 
not to plant churches, and institute theological schools 
for the religious education of the people. This is not its 
proper office. It is not for such things that it exists. 
The people must do this ; the public authorities, as indi- 
viduals, may do it if they choose ; but the state, as such, 
exists for quite another purpose, and is out of its true 
province if it undertakes such matters. 

This does not, however, prevent the state from having 
any religion o? its own, or from being a truly Christian 
state. It may acknowledge the general principles of 
Christianity, the great truths of revelation, the existence 
of God, the duty of men to honor and worship him, the 
sacredness of the Christian Sabbath, the authority of the 
scriptures; it may admit the doctrine of a future state 
of rewards and punishments, and so the validity and sig- 
nificance of an oath. It may hold and maintain all these 
general truths of natural and revealed religion, and pro- 
tect others in the belief of the same, without an estab- 
lished religion, or a state church. 

Nor is there, as some have contended, danger of irre- 
ligion and atheism from this source. Facts have shown 
the opposite. In no country, perhaps, is the public mind 
more generally and more deeply imbued with the essen- 



308 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



tial principles of the Christian faith, and with a regard 
and reverence for religious things, than in our own, where 
these matters are left entirely to the people; and the 
working of the voluntary system, thus far at least, as 
contrasted with the practical results of the opposite sys- 
tem in the state churches and established religions of the 
Old World, seems to point conclusively to this as the true 
and most effective means of maintaining the institutions, 
and disseminating the truths, of the Christian religion, 
both at home and abroad. 



CHAPTER V. 

DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 

In the previous chajDters our inquiries have been directed 
to the nature and foundation of civil government, the 
duties of the subject as regards the state, and of the state 
with reference to the subject. It is of importance to in- 
quire further respecting the duties which one state, or 
organized civil community, owes to other states. And this 
inquiry divides itself naturally into two parts, — the ethi- 
cal relations of the state to other states in general, and 
the ethical relations of confederate and republican states 
like our own, to each other in particular. These topics 
will be discussed in separate sections. 

§ 1. — The General Kelations and Duties of States to each 

OTHER. 

States have their relations to other states, and their 
duties growing out of those relations, no less than to their 
own subjects; and these duties are as imperative and bind- 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



309 



ing in the one case as in the other. The state is no more 
free from the law of right, in its dealings with other states, 
than the individual in his private dealings with other indi- 
viduals. The same general principles of morality, the 
same obligations to truthfulness, honesty, and honor, in 
all engagements, apply to and bind the state, as the in- 
dividual. 

But, while the principles are the same, the application 
of them to particular circumstances may differ. The posi- 
tion of the state is, in many respects, a very different one 
from that of the individual, — it has certain rights, and 
^ duties, which do not, and cannot, belong to him. It be- 
comes a matter of importance, then, to ascertain what are 
the principles of morality which apply to the intercourse 
of state with state, and how the relations and duties of 
each to each are modified by those iDrinciples. 

To define specifically the rights and obligations of na- 
tions to each other, is the province of a distinct science, — 
that of internatio7ial Icm^ or, as it is sometimes called, the 
Icms of nations. This science, however, has to do rather 
with the existing customs and usages of nation s, as matters 
of fact, than with the strictly ethical bearings and relations 
of the subject, — rather with the what ^s, than the what 
ought to be / while it is rather with the latter, than the 
former, that Moral Philosophy concerns itself 

Our inquiries will have reference chiefly to the following 
points : the rights and duties of nations as regards their 
general i7itercourse, — their mutual treaties and alliances^ 
— their loars, — a)id their jurisdiction. 

1. General Intercourse. — There are two principles 
which should ever be recognized in the intercourse of state 



310 DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 

with state : That each state is, in itself, sovereign and in- 
dependent, and is ever to be treated as such ; and also, 
That in all their regulations and transactions with each 
other, states, no less than individuals, are to be governed 
by the simple and unalterable principles of morality, — 
a strict regard to the true and the right. 

The sovereignity of every nation — its independent right 
to exist for itself, and to manage its own concerns as it 
j^leases, without restraint or constraint from abroad — is one 
of the fundamental principles of international justice. Any 
people or nation, occupying a given territory, organized for 
purposes of government, and actually exercising control 
over its own affairs, has an undoubted right to remain un- 
molested in that control of itself, so long as it respects the 
rights of other states. It may be a large or a small, a 
weak or a powerful state, in respect to numbers and re- 
sources ; it may be a monarchy, or a republic ; it may 
manage its affairs wisely, or foolishly ; it may progress in 
all the arts and refinements of a high civilization, or remain 
stationary in the darkness and barbarism of a former age ; — 
it matters not what may be its condition in these respects, 
it has still the right to be as it likes, and do as it likes, sub- 
ject to no interference or dictation from states that maybe 
older, or stronger, or wiser and more enlightened than 
itself. So long as it is a state at all, it is a sovereign state. 
It may be subdued by foreign conquest, or broken in pieces 
and destroyed by civil dissension ; — and in that case it is 
no longer a state ; — but, so long as it continues a distinct 
nationality, a separate organization, it may claim the right 
of absolute and independent sovereignty. England, France, 
the United States, have no right to dictate to China, or 
Japan, or any other state, however barbarous its customs, 
and however misguided its policy, what shall or shall 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



311 



not be its general management, and course of procedure, 
as to its own affairs. 

The Second Principle. — That nations are to be gov- 
erned, in all their intercourse with each other, by the simple 
and established principles of morality, is too plain, and too 
true to require discussion, though, in fict, too often over- 
looked. Nations have no more right than private individ- 
uals to violate the essential principles of truth and justice. 
They are under the same fixed and eternal laws of right — 
they are bound by the same obligations, that apply to in- 
dividual conduct. There is an authority above them, a 
court of appeal to which they are amenable, and by whose 
ultimate decision they must abide. That public con- 
science, that sense of right that dwells in every bosom, 
and pronounces the verdict of universal approbation or 
condemnation on the acts of nations, and the mandates of 
kings, — itself but the faint echo and reproduction of that 
still higher and more jjowerful verdict of Him who sitteth 
on the circle of the heavens, and judgeth the actions of 
men, — extends its authority and jurisdiction over empires 
as well as individuals, and holds the mightiest nations, no 
less than the humblest citizen, subject to the eternal law 
of right. 

There is, indeed, no code of written law, emanating from 
an authorized legislative body, and enforced by an author- 
ized executive ; no legal penalties awaiting transgression ; 
no verdict of judicial tribunal arraigning the guilty nation 
at its bar : yet is there not the less a law and a tribunal, a 
verdict and a penalty. Public opinion, and the universal 
sense of right that holds its seat in every human bosom, 
and constitutes what we may call the conscience of the 
race, are the real judges, the real tribunal. The penalty of 
transgression is the public condemnation, and the public 



812 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



contempt, together with that self-degradation which eril- 
doing never faik to inflict on the transgressor of the laws 
of right, l^or is there wanting a still higher tribunal. 
The Supreme Ruler of the nniyerse has his throne among 
the nations of the earth, and takes cognizance of their 
crimes. Individuals receive the just award of their deeds 
in the future ; nations and states exist as such only in the 
present world, and receiA^e their sentence and their punish- 
ment here. Fearful is the doom which awaits, at the hands 
of a righteous Providence, the nation that sets itself against 
the eternal laws of God. 

I have said there is no written code, proceeding from an 
authorized legislature, and enforced with legal sanctions, 
by which the nations are to be governed in their inter- 
course with each other; for this were to suppose some 
positive authority, some nation, or ruler above tlie nations, 
with power to give and to punish its violation ; wliereas, 
among men, no such lawgiver and ruler of nations exists. 
I^evertheless, the essential principles of right are univer- 
sally admitted; and by common consent, and the practice of 
nations, many laws and regulations have come, in process 
of time, to be recognized as of authority in the intercourse 
of nations, and have taken their place as established prin- 
cijjles. These, whether written or unwritten, constitute 
Vvhat are termed the Law of JSTations, or International 
Law. 

Comity of JSfations. — Aside from the two general prin- 
ciples now mentioned as regulating the intercourse of na- 
tions, namely, that each is sovereign and independent, and 
that each is bound by the ordinary rules and obligations 
of morality in all its dealings, there is to be taken into 
account also what we may call the comity, or courtesy of 
nations. The state stands on the same footing in this 
respect with the individual citizen. It is bound to treat all 



DUTIES OF 



STATE TO STATE. 



813 



Other states not merely justly and honestly, but with court- 
esy. It must pay due regard to the acknowledged pro- 
prieties and usages of national intercourse, as regards the 
forms of diplomatic reception, the honors due to the flags 
of other nations, and to their accredited ministers, and 
whatever of the like kind common courtesy and common 
usage require. 

Any departure from these acknowledged rules of inter- 
national civility, subjects a nation to the same disgrace, 
among nations, which attaches to the individual who is 
guilty of insolent or unbecoming behavior in polite 
society. 

2. Mutual Alliances and Treaties. — It is some- 
times for the advantage of nations to combine, for the 
accomplishment of an object of common interest to each, — 
as defence against the encroachments of a formidable 
enemy, or the prosecution of scientific research and dis- 
covery. In such cases, the parties forming alliance enter 
into league or covenant with each other, pledging mutual 
assistance for the accomplishment of the objects specified. 
The combination of the great powers of Europe to imt 
down Napoleon, and the joint efforts of civilized nations 
for the suppression of the slave-trade, and of piracy, are 
instances of such alliance. 

Treaties are contracts, of a more general nature, between 
state and state. A treaty of alliance is one particular kind 
of treaty, or contract. A great variety of specific objects 
may be determined by treaty between different nations, — 
as the regulations of commerce, settlement of boundaries, 
decision of vexed questions of dispute, and whatever con- 
cerns the peace and prosperity of either party. 

The general principles of ethics already specified as ap- 
plying to the general intercourse of state with state, apply 

27 



314 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



also and equally to the matter of alliance and treaty. 
There must be no dishonesty or fraud, no trickery and 
deception, no violation of truth and justice and right. 
Whatever treaty or alliance is based on, or involves, any- 
thing of this sort, however great may seem to be the 
advantage thereby accruing to either party, is a treaty or 
alliance which has no right to be. ISTo state has a right to 
combine with other powers for the injury or oppression of 
any other state, or to interfere with its internal affairs and 
arrangements. It is the duty of every state, no less in its 
alliances and treaties with foreign powers, than in its single 
capacity, to respect the rights and recognize the sover- 
eignty of its neighbor states. 

Within the lines now specified, — that is, the lines of 
honesty and strict integrity, — treaties and alliances, once 
formed, are binding on all the parties, and have the whole 
force of law. It is the duty of each state scrupulously to 
observe all the conditions and stipulations of such a con- 
tract, even to its own detriment ; and to see to it that its 
citizens observe the same. 

3. Waes. — Nations are, unfortunately, sometimes in- 
volved in war. Is this ever justifiable, and what are the 
ethical j^rinciples that apply to such cases ? A nation may 
find itself involved in conflict from either of two sources : 
its rights or territory may be invaded by a force from 
without ; or, its laws may be trampled upon, with armed 
violence, by its own citizens. In either case there may be 
a necessity for a resort to arms, in order to repel the inva- 
der, or to assert the supremacy of its own statutes. The 
state exists for the public good, and is bound, so long as 
it exists, to carry out and enforce whatever measures may 
be deemed essential to that end. Its own laws, and its 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 315 



own rights must, therefore, be maintained at all hazards, 
and, if need be, by force of arais, — that is, by war. 

In defence of national freedom, and the public good, — 
in the maintenance of law and justice, — in the pro- 
tection of those rights and interests which are essential 
to the welfare, or even the existence of the state, — this 
condition of war, with all its perils and inevitable mis- 
eries, becomes a matter of necessity and of duty. It is 
the price which must sometimes be paid for liberty, and 
for national existence. No state is under obligation to 
commit suicide, or to suffer itself to be overrun by inva- 
sion and conquest, and trampled out of existence by 
unscrupulous and lawless force, so long as it can resist 
and repel this violence. IsTor is the question whether to 
submit, or to resist, always one of mere expediency — of 
profit and loss. Often it rises higher than that, and be- 
comes a question of duty and solemn obligation. The 
state, existing for a given purpose, and undertaking to 
accomplish a given end, is under obligation to fulfill its 
engagement, to do what it has promised and undertaken 
to do ; and is ethically guilty, if, having the power, it fail 
to protect its citizens in their just and natural rights, and 
guard the interests committed to its keeping. This is a 
duty demanded of it, not merely by a regard to its own 
subjects, and its own interests, but also, in many cases, 
by a regard to the general interests and welfare of other 
states and nations. 

Still, war should ever be the last resort, — tried as a 
means of redress, only when all other means fail of ac- 
complishing the desired end. When protests and nego- 
tiations fail, and the appeal to justice and the sense of 
right in the aggressor has been made in vain, and there 
remains no alternative but to yield or resist, — then, and 
not till then, may the injured state draw the sword, and 



316 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



appeal to the God of battles, the Eternal Justice, to de- 
cide the controversy. 

According to the view now taken, it is evident that, 
were all nations disposed to do justly, and respect each 
other's rights, war would be quite unnecessary. Whenever 
it occurs, it always implies and involves guilt in one or both 
the parties. It is no slight responsibility that is thus incurred. 
That nation has much to answer for at the bar of justice 
that not only involves itself in all the miseries of war, but 
subjects another and a peaceable nation to the dire neces- 
sity of sacrificing its honor and its interests, or of shedding 
the blood of its own sons in self-defence. 

Most of the wars which ravage the earth and lay deso- 
late its fairest realms, might easily be prevented, were there 
but the disposition among nations to deal fairly and honor- 
ably by each other; and even when disputes arise, and 
questions of serious moment come up for decision, the 
necessity for the final resort to arms might in most cases 
be obviated, were the matters in dispute submitted to the 
judgment and arbitration of some friendly power. 

Hights of War. — In ancient times, the distinction of 
war and peace was not very clearly defined among the 
nations. The condition of Avar was considered the nat- 
ural condition of a state in relation to other and foreign 
states, — the general rule, to which peace was the excep- 
tion ; and that exception was usually the result of special 
convention and contract. Thus, in the Latin tongue, one 
and the same word denoted both a stranger and an enemy. 
As the distinction in question came to be more clearly 
defined, and war became a specific thing, in distinction 
from the state of universal hostility and piracy, certain 
rules came to be recognized, by common usage and con- 
sent, as applicable to the general conduct of nations at strife 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



817 



with eacli other ; and these were designated as the rights 
of war. These rights of war, among the ancients, partook 
of much that was savage and barbarous in their character, 
in accordance with the spirit of the time. They extended 
to the right of enslaving, and even of putting to death, 
not merely all prisoners taken in war, but even all the 
inhabitants of a conquered country, without distinction 
of combatant and non-combatant. At the same time, tliey 
required the conqueror to allow the burial of the slain 
among the vanquished ; and they attached the utmost 
sacredness and inviolability to the office of herald, or en- 
voy, and scrupulously guarded the faithful observance of 
all truces or treaties between the belligerents. 

In modern times, the rights of war have been divested 
of much that was savage and barbarous in their earlier 
form. Distinction is made between those who bear arms, 
and those who do not, in any community ; and it is under- 
stood by all parties, that the war is not waged with women 
and children, and inoffensive, peaceable citizens, but only 
with actual combatants, — with the army and navy, or the 
organized fighting force of the enemy. It is the destruc- 
tion of this organized force, rather than the destruction of 
human life, that is the object aimed at. Hence, every act 
of wanton cruelty and needless bloodshed is branded as 
worthy of reprobation ; and the prisoner, once in the hands 
of his captors, is no longer an enemy, to be slain or en- 
slaved at the will of the conqueror, because no longer a 
part of that military organization against which the war 
is waged. And so with the ship that has struck its flag to 
the enemy in naval contest. In the middle ages, it was the 
custom of war to spare the lives of prisoners, and set them 
free on payment of a ransom. Among modern nations, the 
vanquished soldier becomes prisoner of war merely by 
giving up his arms and asking quarter, and obtains his 

27* 



318 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



liberty by exchange with the opposite party, or, some- 
times, where that cannot be effected, by parole, or word 
of honor that he will not serve again in the war. 

The barbarities attending the storming and capture of a 
besieged town or fortress are among the most revolting 
and inhitman of all the manifold atrocities which stain the 
annals of war. Pillage, rapine, indiscriminate destruction, 
are but too frequently the established order of the day. 
To some extent, doubtless, scenes of violence are inevita- 
ble in such cases. It is impossible to protect entirely those 
who are non-combatants from the miseries of the siege, 
the famine, the assault and capture. It is the misfortune 
of the innocent — as too often in this world — to suffer 
with the guilty. To put to death, in cold blood, those 
who had cast themselves on the clemency or the good 
faith of the conqueror, would be justified, however, by no 
laws or usages of modern warfare. In cases of protracted 
resistance, measures of severity are sometimes practised, — 
as putting the garrison to the sword, or giving up the 
place to pillage, for the purpose of striking terror into 
other resisting and fortified places, and thus bringing the 
war sooner to an end. Such procedure may jDOSsibly be 
justified, in some extreme cases, on the ground of humanity, 
and. the ultimate saving of life. But such acts, even if 
sometimes necessary, are still among the most inhuman 
features of war. 

By the usages of modern warfare, private property is 
respected in an enemy's country, on the ground that it is 
not with the citizen, but the state, that war is waged. At 
sea, however, the same rule has not, as yet, been estab- 
lished ; but the merchant's vessel is liable to be captured, 
and his goods seized, as not being within the territory, 
and on that account, in a measure, out of the protection 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



319 



of the state to which he belongs. It is difficult to per- 
ceive the justice and ethical ground of such a distinction. 

4. iNTERNATioisrAL JuEispiCTioisT. — By gradual usage 
and conventional agreement of nations, certain rules and 
maxims have come to be of acknowledged authority in 
respect to national territory and rights of jurisdiction. 
As against other states, every state has the unquestioned 
and exclusive right to its own territory. But it may 
often come in question, how far does that territory ex- 
tend. Hence, it is important to settle all such questions 
according to some established rules. By the law of na- 
tions, the territory of any state is considered as extending 
to the forts, harbors, bays, and whatever parts of the sea 
are enclosed by headlands belonging to that state. Its 
jurisdiction also extends to the distance of a cannon-shot 
from the shore' along all its coasts. Within these lines 
its right of property and control is exclusive. 

States have sometimes claimed still further jurisdiction 
over adjacent seas, as formerly Venice over the Adriatic, 
and, more recently, Turkey over the Euxine, Eussia over 
the Baltic, and Denmark over the Sound. It sometimes 
happens that rivers run through different countries, in 
their course to the sea ; in such cases there is at least 
a moral and commercial, if not an international right, 
of each state through whose territory it may pass, to the 
unobstructed right of the same, for purposes of commerce. 
In times of peace, this right is usually conceded, either 
tacitly or by convention ; in case of hostilities between 
nations thus situated, the rights of commerce give way 
to the rights of war, and, by the usage of nations, the 
enemy's ships, as already stated, are lawful plunder. Even 
the goods of a neutral state are not exempt from this rule, 



320 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



when found in an enemy's vessel, — the maxim being that 
enemy's ships make enemy's goods. 

The question sometimes aiises, how far the jurisdiction 
of a state extends to its subjects when out of its territory; 
as, for example, in a ship on the high seas. It is generally 
conceded, that the vessels of any nation, at sea, and be- 
yond the territorial limits of other states, are subject to 
the jurisdiction of the state to which they belong. So 
far as respects the violation of its own laws, that ju- 
risdiction is exclusive. When an offence is committed 
against the common law of nations, it passes out of the 
exclusive jurisdiction of that particular state to which 
the vessel belongs, and may be punished by the proper 
tribunal of any country into whose ports the offender 
may be carried. This is the case with piracy, for ex- 
ample. Any ship suspected of being a pirate, may be 
searched by any stronger power, without regard to the 
flag under which she may choose or chance to sail; and 
those engaged in her navigation or defence may be tried, 
and, if convicted, be put to death, by the legal author- 
ities of any other state, into whose ports they may be 
taken. 

N"o reason can be shown why it should not be the same 
with the slave-trade. Such, however, is not the present 
construction of international law. The slave-trade is, in- 
deed, condemned by the laws of all civilized nations; 
but it has been decided by the English courts, that it is 
not, in such a sense, a crime against the general law of 
nations, as to authorize the courts of one nation to try 
the loyal subjects of another, charged with this offence, 
except in case of special treaty to that effect. 

The national jurisdiction extends, moreover, not merely 



DUTIES or STATE TO STATE. 



321 



to its subjects and vessels on the high seas, but in some 
degree, and within certain limits, to its subjects in any- 
foreign territory. The person of a sovereign, or an am- 
bassador, passing into the territory of a foreign state, is 
not, in time of peace, considered as properly subject to 
its jurisdiction. The consuls, also, and other authorized 
agents and ministers of every state, exercise, to some ex- 
tent, jurisdiction over their countrymen in foreign states 
where such ministers or agents may reside. Ships of 
war, in foreign ports, are exempt from local jurisdiction 
of the same ; but not private vessels, unless by special 
agreement. 

The general principles of state jurisdiction may be com- 
prehended in the following maxims, as stated by jurists 
of distinction : First, That the laws of a state have force 
within the limits of its own government, and bind all 
its subjects, but have no force beyond those limits. Sec- 
ond, That, with the exceptions already stated, all persons 
found within the limits of a government, whether their 
residence is permanent or temporary, are to be deemed 
subjects of that government. And, inasmuch as men 
often pass from one state to another, in which the laws 
respecting rank, property, contracts, marriage, etc., may 
vary from those of the former, it has been generally con- 
ceded, as a maxim of state policy, that whatever laws re- 
specting such matters are in force in the state from which 
one comes, the same shall be considered valid and bind- 
ing on him in the state to which he goes, so far as they 
do not interfere with the established laws and rights of 
the latter, and of its citizens. Thus, a contract valid by 
the laws of the land in which it is made, is valid in all 
other countries. 

Such are some of the general principles of international 
jurisprudence. For a fuller discussion of the subject, the 



322 DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 

reader is referred to the works which treat particularly 
of these matters; and especially to Story's Conflict of 
Laws, Wheaton's Elements of International Law, Man- 
ning's Commentaries on the Law of Nations, as also to 
the commentaries of Kent, and Blackstone. 

§ 11. — Ethical Relations of Republican States to Each 
Othee. 

The general princijjles which should regulate the in- 
tercourse of states with each other, have been pointed 
out in the previous sections. These principles apjDly, 
also, in the main, to the intercourse of states confederate 
with each other, whether as independent sovereignties, 
or united under one constitution as a Republic. States 
thus confederated, or united, sustain to each other, how- 
ever, pecuhar relations ; and from these arise certain cor- 
responding obligations, of a more sjDecific nature than 
those already considered. I have spoken of two forms 
which this relation may assume — that of a simple C07i- 
federation^ and that of a repuhlic. 

The Confederation. — In the former case, certain states, 
adjacent, it may be, in territory, or drawn toward each 
by community of interest, for purposes of mutual benefit, 
or for mutual defence, form themselves into a league, and 
deliberate, by their representatives in council, on matters 
of common interest or common danger. The separate 
cantons of Switzerland are an example of such confed- 
eration. The different provinces of Germany were for- 
merly, and, to some extent, are still, if I mistake not, thus 
united. In such cases, the several states are still inde- 
pendent sovereignties, maintaining each its own form of 
government, the authority of each absolute and exclusive 
within its own domains, and each separated, it may be, 
from its neighbors by mutual jealousies and dissensions. 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



323 



The congress which represents them possesses no sover- 
eignty over any one of these states, nor over all com- 
bined; its acts are only acts of council; and. any state, if 
dissatisfied, may at any moment withdraw from the comi- 
cil entirely, or refuse to execute its resolves. Such a con- 
gress may act as agent for the several states, with dele- 
gated authority, to declare and carry on war, or to make 
peace; to appoint ambassadors, and to conclude treaties. 
Such treaties and acts, however, are not binding, until 
they receive the assent of each sovereign state, in its sep- 
arate capacity. 

The Republic. — Such an arrangement as that now de- 
scribed is a very difierent matter, and involves a very 
different relation of the several parties, from that which 
is implied in a JRepuhliG. The union is much closer, and 
more perfect, in the latter case, than in the former. The 
several states are no longer independent and sovereign, 
but they compose one whole, under one national govern- 
ment, and to this national government is committed the 
sovereignty and control of the general affairs, so far as 
other nations are concerned, — its powers being limited 
and defined, however, by the constitution. Within the 
limits thus prescribed, its authority is complete, that is 
as to all things given by the states, in the first place, to 
its jurisdiction. All other matters remain still under the 
separate jurisdiction of the several states. It can raise 
armies, levy taxes, declare war or peace, regulate com- 
merce, and all transactions with foreign states ; in a word, 
may do all that any sovereign state can do, subject only 
to its own constitution. Our own country furnishes an 
example of such a Eepublic. 

A government thus constituted derives, evidently, all 
its powers from the constitution. "Whatever that con- 
cedes, it may do, but nothing beyond; CA'crything else 



824 



DUTIES OF STATE TO STATE. 



lies still in the power of the several states in their indi- 
vidual capacity. N"o one of these may interfere with 
the internal arrangements and affairs of any other, nor 
is any one responsible for what another may choose to 
do, or not to do. 

Each state becomes a member of the republic, in the 
first place, only by its own consent ; that is, by the adop- 
tion of the general constitution that binds together the 
whole. The transfer of its sovereignty to the whole must 
be its own free act. But that once done, and the state 
having once become a member of the republic, it has no 
longer a moral right to withdraw, or to refuse compliance 
with the general laws and regulations of the government, 
unless such condition is specially and specifically con- 
tained in the articles of primitive agreement ; that is, 
in the original constitution. 

In the forcible and just language of Dr. Hickok: "A 
constitution with, and one without, the rights of nulli- 
fication or secession, are two very different things; and 
if the right is not plainly expressed, then it does not 
exist ; and those who have adopted it, have vested rights 
under it which no separate state can amend or disregard." 
The crime of treason attaches to all deliberate and armed 
resistance to authority thus constituted ; and the republic 
has the power and the right to enforce its authority 
against any recreant state, subject only to the limits 
which the constitution imposes. 



PAET Y, 



DUTIES TO aOD. 



Of the general classes into which the jiractical duties 
of life were divided in our analysis, those which pertain to 
self, to society, or our fellow-men in general, to the fam- 
ily, and to the state, have already claimed our attention. 
It remains to consider, in the present division, those which 
we owe to God. In one sense, as it ha^ been already re- 
marked, all our duties, whether to self or to society, to 
the flimily or the state, are duties which we owe to God. 
He regards them as such, and will hold us responsible for 
their fulfillment. There is no duty in life, to Avhomsoever 
and to whatsoever it may directly pertain, the fiithful per- 
formance of which he does not regard as service rendered 
unto him, and the neglect of which he will not count 
as unfoithfulness and disobedience toward himself. But, 
while this is true of all duties, there are some which more 
specially and directly pertain to God as their immediate 
object ; and it is of these I am now to speak. 

These, again, resolve themselves naturally into two 
classes, — those which relate to the feelings which we cher- 
ish, and those which relate to the conduct which we man- 
ifest, towards God. Among the more prominent of the 
former class are the duties of Rei^erence and Love ; of the 

28' 



326 



OF THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD. 



latter, the duties of Obedience and 1/Vorship. These may, 
perhaps, be regarded as comprehensive of all others. 

Before proceeding to treat of these several duties in 
detail, a word ought perhaps to be said with respect to 
their relation and importance, as compared with other 
departments of duty. Of the various classes of human 
obligation, those which we owe to the Supreme Being 
are entitled to the highest rank. All other branches of 
duty are, in a measure, inferior and subordinate to these. 
These neglected, all others will be; these faithfully per- 
formed, all others will follow in their train. 

This seems to have been well understood by the ancients. 
"It should never be thought," says Plato, "that there is 
any branch of human virtue of greater importance than 
piety towards the Deity." To the same effect, in the 
Memorabilia of Xenophon, Socrates speaks of the wor- 
ship of the gods as a duty acknowledged everywhere, and 
received by all men as the first command. Cicero, likewise, 
in his treatise De Officiis, ranks first in order of importance 
those duties which we owe to the immortal gods. 



CHAPTER 1. 

OF THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD. 

1. Reveeence. — If there is such a Being as God, the 
creator of all, the supreme disposer of events, the righteous 
ruler and judge of men, and if he is what we believe him 
to be, omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, eternal, holy, 
just and good, surely this great and glorious Being is wor- 
thy of the highest reverence of the mind. The moment 



OF THE FEELINGS TOTTAEDS GOD. 



327 



tlie iclea of such a Being presents itself to the mind, we 
are instinctively impressed with the grandeur of the con- 
ception, and filled with awe, as in the presence of a supe- 
rior power. That mind must be deficient in self-respect, 
lacking in the perception of what is seemly and proper, 
that does not feel and acknowledge its obligation to bow 
in deepest reverence before the august and glorious Being 
who inhabiteth . eternity, and filleth immensity with his 
presence. That mind must be sadly disordered, and thrown 
fi'oni its balance, that does not instinctively yield this hom- 
age. 

Even bad men may do this, and hare often done it. 
The selfish and corrupt heart, that seeks only its own ends, 
and lives only for itself, may still retain with reverence and 
fear the thought of that infinite excellence and purity, so 
superior to anything of vrhich it is itself conscious. Such 
a fear may indeed border on superstition, — in many cases 
it may be nothing more, — yet even a superstition such as 
this, is surely better and more reasonable than utter irrev- 
erence. 

Reverence is an emotion that takes its rise in the spirit- 
ual nature of man. It is awakened in view of the spiritual, 
wherever manifested. The sublime aspects of nature, in 
so far as they express the majesty and power, and indicate 
the presence of the invisible One, whose breath giveth life 
to all creatures, and whose hand sustains the goodly fabric 
of creation, are fitted to awaken and call forth this emotion. 
The reverent mind sees God in all his works. The eternal 
hills are his strength ; the clouds are his chariot ; the 
lightnings are his arrows ; the thunder is his voice. In the 
impassioned language of sacred poetry, even inanimate 
nature fears and adores her God. "He toucheth the hills, 
and they smoke." At his going forth, "the pillars of heaven 



328 OF THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD. 



tremble, and are astonished." " The deep uttereth his 
voice, and lifteth up his hands on high." 

But it is not in the external world alone that the spirit- 
ual nature of man recognizes and reveres the Infinite Spirit. 
God comes yet nearer than this to the soul that he hath 
made in the image of his own. In all the fears and hopes 
that agitate that soul, as it looks forward to the future ; in 
all its aspirations for a higher excellence than it has yet 
attained ; in all the providences of its earthly lot ; in all the 
utterances of the sacred oracles ; in all the silent and holy 
communing of the soul with its Maker, — the devout mind 
recognizes the presence of its God, and adores with fear 
and trembling ; and never is the soul of man more truly 
dignified and exalted, than when thus bowing low in deep- 
est reverence before God. 

I^OY is the emotion of which I speak a painful one. In 
this respect it differs from fear, to which it is otherwise 
closely analogous. There is in it more of love than fear. 
The majesty and the glory, that reveal to the waiting and 
wondering soul the presence of the Infinite, fill that soul 
with awe indeed, but not with fear, — inspire it with a calm 
and holy delight. There is much, it may be, in the scene 
or the object contemplated, that is awful and terrible ; but 
yet a strange and invisible attraction draws the spirit 
towards the object which awakens its admiring and ador- 
ing regard ; and it stands in that sacred presence, as Moses 
before the burning bush in the desert, filled with awe, yet 
not choosing to turn away from a spot so holy. 

The reverence of which I speak, as due to the Supreme 
Being, belongs also, in a degree, to all that is connected 
with his name and his worship, — in a word, to all sacred 
things. The reverent mind will never allow itself to trifie 
with anything that pertains to the Divine Being. His 



or THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD. 



329 



name, his word, his ordinances, his works — all are sacred, 
and to be revered. Whatever tends to desecrate the same, 
shocks the sensibility of every right mind. To take the 
name of God in vain, or to treat with levity anything per- 
taining to religion, is the height of irreverence and im- 
piety, 

2. LoYE. — It is not enough to fear God. Reverence, 
however becoming, and however the want of it may indi- 
cate some serious defect or degradation of character, is still 
not the whole, nor the chief duty of the heart towards 
God. The displays of his power and majesty in nature, 
or the simple conception of his greatness and glory, the 
idea of the Infinite and the Absolute, of Him who is with- 
out beginning of days, or end of years, may fill the mind 
that once fairly entertains so grand and sublime a thought, 
with a profound awe, and call forth its deepest reverence. 
But God is more than this. He is a good, as well as a great 
Being, and as such, deserves not merely our reverence, but 
our love. 

Gratitude alone, if there were no higher consideration, 
requires this. The goodness of God is not an abstract 
quality, a mere conception of the mind, but a matter of 
personal experience, as manifested to every man in the 
constant and ever-varying benefits of every passing hour 
of life. The God whom we are to love, is the God that 
liath led us all our life long, and hath crowned all our days 
with his loving kindness. There can be no clearer evi- 
dence of the guilt, and utter ruin of the soul, than that it 
should find in itself, among all its varied powers, and ex- 
quisite susceptibilities of emotion, no answering chord of 
grateful affection for all those benefits, — that it should 
have a full and generous love to bestow on all inferior 

28* 



380 



OF THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD. 



objects, but no love for Hira wbo alone is worthy of 
supreme regard, the giver of every good and perfect gift. 

All true obedience, and all true and acceptable worship, 
must have its seat and source in this emotion. That is an 
idle and a vain service, which proceeds not from true love 
in the heart. Indeed, as Paley has well said, " That silent 
piety which consists in a habit of tracing out the Creator's 
wisdom and goodness in the objects around us, of referr- 
ing the blessings we enjoy to his bounty, and of resorting 
in our distresses to his succor, may possibly be more 
acceptable to the Deity than any visible expressions of 
devotion whatever." 

Love to God is the spring of all true religion, and the 
foundation of all genuine morality. It is a duty compre- 
hensive, in part, of all others. It is the first and great 
commandment, comprising within itself all minor require- 
ments. The God who made us, and whom we serve, — in 
whom we live, and move, and have our being, — demands 
our love — will be satisfied with nothing less, deserves 
nothing less. Failing in this, we miss the whole duty of 
man. 

Accordingly, God has formed us to love him, and en- 
dowed us with a nature fitte#to this end. He has so con- 
stituted us, that, by the very laws of our being, whatever is 
beautiful and excellent naturally wins our admiration, 
and calls forth our love. We are not insensible to all 
the beauty and grandeur of his works. On every side 
they surprise, they delight us. But these are only a por- 
tion of his ways — the dim and faint reflection of the eter- 
nal beauty and excellence that dwells in him, their author 
and original. Loving and admiring these his works, he 
would have us, in these and above these, love and adore 



OF THE FEELINGS TOWARDS GOD. 



S31 



himself, the source of all — the Being in ^v hom all loveli- 
ness, all beauty, dwell. 

Our nature inclines us to admire, also, what is morally 
excellent, what is great and noble in character, as well as 
what is beautiful and lovely in the external world. There 
are certain attributes and qualities of mind and heart 
which, wherever manifested, win our admiration. We are 
formed to love and admire such qualities — it is our nature. 
But He who so formed us, possesses in himself, in highest 
perfection, these very attributes ; and in so constituting us 
as to love what is truly great, and excellent, and worthy to 
be loved, he has specially formed and fitted us to love 
Himself, the source of all excellence. 

And does he not richly deserve our love, simply for 
bestowing upon us a nature thus fitted for infinite enjoy- 
ment ? A single sensation of happiness, it has been well 
remarked, though it should continue but for a moment, 
and terminate w^ith that single moment, would be a cause 
for gratitude so long as it could be remembered. If 
this be so, if the enjoyment of even a single sense, for a 
single moment, is cause of gratitude, what shall w^e say of 
that constjyit enjoyment, not of one, but of all our senses; 
not of sense merely, but of the higher intellectual pleas- 
ures ; not of intellect merely, but of heart, and soul, and 
all that fills the spiritual, moral nature with delight ; and 
this not for a single moment of existence, but through 
life? Does not the generous donor of a happiness so 
varied and bountiful, and utterly undeserved, richly merit 
that love which he seeks to draw forth from his creatures 
toward himself? 



832 



OF OBEDIENCE. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF OBEDIENCE. 

The duties of the heart, though at the foundation of all 
morality and all j^iety, do not terminate in themselves, 
and are not complete in themselves. Moral obligation 
relates to the conduct^ no less than to the feelings. Rev- 
erence toward God, and love to God, lead to obedience, 
and terminate in that as their natural result and object. 
The feeling manifests itself in the conduct, insomuch that 
where the latter is deficient, we are warranted in conclud- 
ing that the former is also lacking. There cannot be true 
love to God in the heart, where there is not real obedience 
to God in the life. The first and chief duty of all these, 
so far as regards the conduct of man with respect to God, 
is obedience to the divine will. " If ye love me, keep my 
commandments." 

The obligation to obedience results both from, the divine 
character, and from the relations we sustain to God as his 
creatures. 

The Dimne Character, — The character of God is con- 
formable to the highest conceptions which the human 
mind can form of excellence and purity. In him are 
united all the attributes that command our admiration. 
To him belong not only infinite power, and matchless wis- 
dom, but the most exalted purity, the strictest justice, the 
most universal benevolence. All that we see and admire 
in others of these virtues and perfections, is but the reflec- 
tion of his own superior excellence, a feeble emanation 
from that Source of all beauty and splendor. 



OF OBEDIENCE. 



833 



'Now, it is fit that a Being of such exalted perfections 
should receive the homage and obedience of all hearts and 
all lives. His character entitles him to command, and obli- 
gates us to obey. There is a moral fitness and propriety 
that the sceptre of the universe should rest in his hands ; 
that the Being in whom repose all wisdom, and power, and 
goodness, and truth, and justice, should be also the source 
of law, and receive the cordial obedience of the universe. 
For any being to refuse such obedience, is for the finite to 
set itself against the infinite ; the feeble and imperfect to 
declare itself independent of the perfect ; the impure and 
unholy to exalt itself against the holy ; the creature of a 
day to declare itself more wise and worthy to rule than 
the august Being whose goings forth are from eternity. 
It is impossible for any candid and intelligent mind calmly 
to meditate upon the character and perfections of God, 
and not perceive in them a sufficient reason why all crea- 
tures, in all parts of his dominion, should yield him will- 
ing and earnest obedience. 

Our delations to Him. — The duty of obedience results 
also from the relations which we sustain to the Divine 
Being. He is not only in himself the source and fountain 
of highest excellence, but he has imparted from his own 
infinite resources life and happiness to all creatures. He 
is our Creator. All that we prize and value in life as such, 
is his gift. His breath woke us first into existence. What- 
ever powers of body or of mind we possess, with what- 
ever natural attributes we are endowed, all are his, and of 
him. Nothing pertaining to us can we properly call our 
own. From the first moment of existence to the last, we 
exercise no faculty of thought or feeling or action, which 
he has not first given us, and which he does not rightly 
claim as belonging to himself. The very power to disobey 



334 



OF OBEDIENCE. 



is a power which he has himself conferred. In him we 
live, and move, and have our being ; and when, in our mad- 
ness and folly, we refuse him the homage and service 
which he justly demands, it is against him in whose hand 
our breath is that we vainly strike. He bears with our 
folly, for he knoweth our frame ; he remembereth that we 
are dust ; yet he never rehnquishes his claim to our entire 
and hearty obedience. 

The N^atiire of his Requirements. — A further argument 
and obligation to obedience is derived from the nature of 
the divine requirements. From such a Being, infinite in 
power, and all the attributes of the most perfect character, 
and sustaining such peculiar relations to us, as creatures, 
dependent on his constant protection for our continued ex- 
istence, as we are on his creative power for our first origin, 
— from such a Being, and in such relations, any law which 
he might give, would carry with it the weight and bind- 
ing force of a perfect moral obligation. The simple fact 
that he is a j^erfect Being, incapable of willing or com- 
manding that which is wrong, and that he is our own 
Creator, and constant Benefactor, make it imperative on 
us to give earnest heed to the least and most trivial ex- 
pression of that will which to us is law. 

But, to state the matter thus, and leave it thus, would be 
to make but an imperfect statement of it. When we come 
to look at what this law is which he has given us, we find 
it one which, in itself, and apart from all consideration of 
the source from which it emanates, carries its own author- 
ity and power of obligation. It is a law not arbitrary in 
its mandate, and for which no reason can be assigned other 
than that the Maker chose to have it so ; but, on the con- 
trary, a law directly adapted to our nature and wants. It 
requires that which it is for our own highest good that we 



OF OBEDIENCE. 



335 



should do ; it forbids that which it is for our own highest 
good to avoid. Obedience to such a law brings our whole 
being into harmony with itself and with the demands of 
its own nature ; disobedience results in the disarrangement 
and discord of all the powers of the soul, the disorder and 
ultimate ruin of the physical, the mental, and the moral 
man. Viewed in this its true light, the Divine Will is not 
so much a law commanding obedience for its own sake, as 
a kind and faithful guide sent to direct our steps in the 
uncertain wilderness of life, and to point us to those paths 
which lead to honor and immortality and eternal life. It is 
that Celestial Wisdom of which Hebrew poets sang, — the 
merchandise of which is better than the merchandise of 
silver, and the gain thereof than fine gold ; — more pre- 
cious than rubies, and all the things thou canst desire not 
to be compared to her; — in her right hand, length of 
days ; in her left hand, riches and honor ; her ways, ways 
of pleasantness, and all her paths peace ; — a tree of life to 
them that lay hold on her, and happy he who retaineth 
her. 

The Dictate of Reason. — Reason, aside from the teach- 
ings of revelation, points out the duty of obedience to the 
divine requirements. Animals have no law but that of 
appetite and instinct. They have no moral nature, and 
are therefore not proper subjects of moral government. 
Man is a being of a higher order, endowed with powers 
which fit him to take rank with the noblest orders of 
created intelligence. To him it is given to know the right 
and the wrong, to look onward from the act to its conse- 
quences, to trace events to their causes ; to him is given 
the sense of moral obligation ; to him the aspirations and 
hopes of the future. Such is his moral nature, that he can- 
not be happy, cannot reach the true good of his being, his 
own high destiny, but by likeness to and communion with 



336 



OF OBEDIENCE. 



liis adorable Creator. His nature demands this, is ever un- 
satisfied and restlessly yearning without it. His earnest 
soul, agitated by passions and conflicting desires, becomes 
as the troubled sea till it finds its rest in God — till it hears 
the voice of its Creator, walking upon its waves, and say- 
ing unto them, Peace ! — he still ! 

Is man, then, in all his consciousness of freedom, and of 
power to do as he will, icithout a law ? Is not this very 
nature of his a law unto him ? This sense of right, this 
feeling of obligation, this consciousness of a higher end 
and 23ur23ose, this longing for something better, purer, than 
he has yet obtained — are not these all a law unto him? 
And shall he violate this law merely because he has the 
power, and can do so if he will? Is not such a course 
utterly irrational, and a gross abuse of the freedom with 
which he is endowed ? 

"Whether we look, then, at the character and perfections 
of the Being who claims our homage and obedience, or at 
the relations which we sustain to him, or at the nature of 
the law he has given us, or at our own moral nature and 
the dictates of reason respecting the same, we find equally, 
and from all sources, the clearest vindication of the divine 
right to our service and allegiance. 

As to the nature of the obedience which we owe to the 
Divine "Will, it is sufficient to say that it must be cordial 
and sincere — not a matter of form merely, but a matter of 
the heart ; otherwise it is in reality no obedience, since 
the very requirement that is made of us is to love the Lord 
our God with all our heart, and soul, and mind, and 
strength. It should, moreover, be a prompt and ready 
obedience — not reluctantly given, as that from which we 
would gladly be excused but for the force and j^ressure of 
circumstances, but the free, spontaneous offering of a will- 



OF WORSHIP. 



837 



ing mind. It should be a decisive obedience, comprehen- 
sive of all the powers and faculties of our being, — the 
obedience not of a divided and distracted kingdom, but 
of a heart firm in its loyalty, and true to itself and to its 
rightful sovereign. 



CHAPTER III. 

OF WORSHIP. 

The reverence and love which we owe to God, and that 
obedience which S23rings from these, and constitutes their 
natural and appropriate expression, have been already con- 
sidered in the preceding chapters. But those affections 
and dispositions of heart which lead to obedience, lead 
also to the worship of God. That exalted and glorious 
Being who is the object of our reverence and our love, and 
who claims our obedience, is also the proper object of our 
adoration and worship. No intelligent mind can for a 
moment contemplate the character and attributes, the 
w^orks and the ways of Jehovah, what he is, and what he 
does, and not feel that he is worthy of the direct adoration 
and homage of every created being. 

The worship of the Supreme Being seems to be an in- 
stinctive principle, an impulse of our nature, a law of the 
soul. As such, it shows itself under all the forms and con- 
ditions of social life, in all ages, and all countries, in all 
the various religions of the race, whether true or false, 
superstitious or reasonable. Whoever builds an altar, or 
in the silent recesses of his heart breathes a prayer ; wiio- 

29 



338 



OF WORSHIP. 



ever bows himself toward the rising sun, or stretches forth 
his hand in supplication toward the moon walking in her 
brightness, or the stars that gem the brow of night ; who- 
ever calls upon an unknown God, or worships the invisible 
spirit that iilleth immensity with his presence, and is not 
far from every one of us, — is but acting in accordance to 
this impulse and instinct of his nature. He who never 
Avorships, has in reality no religion, and knows no God. 

In discussing this subject two distinct topics present 
themselves to our attention, — the one relating to worship 
in itself considered, the other to the observance of sacred 
times and special occasions for worship — Prayer, and 
the Sabbath. 

§ 1. — Of Pratek. 

Its Nature. — Prayer is not necessarily direct, or vocal; 
not of necessity limited to any set form, or time, or place. 
It is not always even the express utterance in words, or 
presenting in thought, of any specific petition or desire. 
There may be prayer without any of these conditions. 
The silent breathing of the heart; the silent going forth of 
the soul to its God in adoration and praise, or in humble 
penitence and contrition ; the faith that rests placidly on 
his mercy for pardon and the forgiveness of sin ; the hope 
that looks joyfully toward the hills from whence its help 
Cometh ;. the love that finds delight in communing with so 
great and so glorious a friend, — these various states and 
exercises of the mind are all, in one sense, but so many 
forms and varieties of prayer. The communion and con- 
verse of the soul with God, in whatever manner or form, is 
in reahty prayer. It is this which constitutes the prayer, 
when words and forms are used ; and the words and forms 
may be dispensed with, but the prayer still go on ; while. 



OF WORSHIP. 



without this, the mere words and forms, however solemn 
and imposing, become but a vain and senseless mockery. 
As when one afar from home, and in some strange land, 
mingles with his fellow-men, the companions of his voyage, 
and engages, it may be, in the pursuits of business which 
brought him thither, — still thinking, however, of his home 
and friends, and longing to meet them again, and cherish- 
ing their memory and their words in his heart, while yet 
those thoughts find no utterance or expression before 
those with whom he mingles, — so is it often with the truly 
devout soul, cherishing its silent and sweet thoughts of 
God, and conversing with him in reality, while engaged in 
the pursuits and occupations of daily life. 

I am very far, however, from implying, in what I have 
now said, that the true spirit of prayer does not naturally 
seek for itself direct and vocal utterance, and those ap- 
propriate times, and places, and forms of expression, which 
are suited to its wants. True, these are but the body, 
the other the soul; still the two are in nature conjoined. 
He whose j)i*ayers never take the form of direct petition, 
and never clothe themselves in words, nor ask for them- 
selves any special time and place, exclusive of other things, 
l^ays questionable worship. He is like the traveller in for- 
eign lands who contents himself with occasional thoughts 
of home and friends, while constantly engaged in the 
business or the pleasures that surround him, but takes 
no time for direct converse or correspondence, nor even 
sets apart one moment from other pursuits, as sacred to 
this holier occupation. 

Prayer includes, not petition only, but praise and thanks- 
giving. It contemplates not merely our own wants, but 
the greatness and glory of Him whom we worship. In 
the adoration which is thus called forth, in the admiring 
wonder and delight with which the mind is thus filled, 



340 



OF WORSHIP. 



it forgets itself, often, and its little wants, and thinks only 
of the glorious Being in whose presence it stands, and 
before whose brightness it is astonished. Or it is filled 
with gratitude and joy, in view of all the mercies it has 
received at the hand of this great and glorious God, and 
its thankfulness finds expression in praise. In such mo- 
ments its songs are prayers, and its prayers are songs. 

'Kor is prayer always a private matter. True, the soul 
naturally seeks solitude, as the condition most favorable 
to devotion. But not always thus. At the family altar, 
in the social circle, and in the more formal devotions of 
the solemn assembly, prayer finds its aj^propriate i^l^ce, 
and its fitting utterance. ^STor is the social and public 
worship of God less a duty, than the more j^rivate and 
solitary communion with him, which the devout spirit so 
highly j^rizes. 

Jts Source. — If we inquire whence springs this desire 
of the human soul to hold converse with its God, — by 
virtue of which not the good and devout alone, but even 
bad men, whose hands are stained with crime, and whose 
hearts, by long continuance in evil, are rendered insensi- 
ble to the beauty and excellence of virtue, are neverthe- 
less sometimes inclined to acts of devotion, — we shall 
find its source, if I mistake not, partly in that religious 
instinct, of which I have already spoken as natural to 
man ; partly in the fears of the future, and the conscious- 
ness of ill-desert, which at times oppress and overwhelm 
the guilty; partly in the happiness which the pure and 
devout mind experiences in communing with its God. 
It seems to be the intention of nature that man should 
thus recognize his dependence on the Divine Being, and 
find his highest happiness in communing with him. Per- 



OF WORSHIP. 



341 



haps, also, we ought to take into account, in this connec- 
tion, the social nature of man, as inclining him. to the 
same result. The heart of man is ill fitted for solitude, 
longs for companionship, seeks to share its sorrows and its 
joys with some other and sympathizing heart. In man it 
finds not always the fellowship and sympathy it needs ; in 
man it cannot always confide. But to its God it can come 
in the darkest and weariest hour of life, sure of sympathy 
and of relief, sure that its confidence will not be betrayed. 
In the just and beautiful language of Mr. Stewart : " The 
dejection of mind which accompanies a state of complete 
solitude ; the disposition we have to impart to others our 
thoughts and feelings ; the desire we have of other intel- 
ligent and moral natures to sympathize with our own, — 
all lead us, in the progress of reason and of moral culture, 
to establish gradually a mental intercourse with the Invis- 
ible Witness and Judge of our conduct. An habitual 
sense of the divine presence comes at last to be formed. 
In every object or event that we see, we trace the hand 
of the Almighty, and in the suggestions of reason and 
conscience, we listen to his inspirations. In this inter- 
course of the heart with God, — an intercourse which 
enlivens and gladdens the most desolate scenes, and which 
dignifies the duties of the meanest station, — the supreme 
felicity of our nature is to be found ; and till it is firmly 
established, there remains a void in every breast which 
nothing earthly can supply." 

Its Reasonableness. — In what has now been said, we 
find not merely an explanation, but a justification of 
prayer. It is eminently a reasonable and proper thing, 
inasmuch as it is founded in the very nature and wants 
of man as a dependent and social being. He is a weak 
and helpless creature, dependent on his God for every 

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342 



or WORSHIP. 



moment of existence, in need of a constant protection and 
guidance, a constant and powerful preservation. Why 
should he not acknowledge this dependence, by going 
directly to the Source of all light and life for whatever 
he needs? We ask for what we want, always, of our 
fellow-men ; why should we not of our God also ? 

Its Efficacy. — It must be admitted, after all, that the 
reasonableness of prayer depends, in a measure at least, 
on its efficacy. If it were of no avail to present our 
petition to the throne of the Divine Majesty, little could 
be said in favor of such a course. That which is quite 
useless, and known to be so, can hardly be called a rea- 
sonable procedure. Now, it is precisely here that the 
gravest and weightiest objections lie against the reason- 
ableness and duty of prayer. If it is best -that we should 
receive that for which we ask, if this is accordant with 
divine wisdom and goodness, then God will certainly be- 
stow it upon us, whether we ask it or not; but if it be 
not so, then he will not give it to us, even if we do ask. 
Of what avail, then, in either case, is our asking? I reply : 
this objection assumes too much. It by no means follows 
that whatever it is best for us to have, in ansioer to our 
prayers, it is best for us to have without the asking. The 
prayer may be the very condition on which the bestowal 
of the favor is susi3ended, and without which, divine wis- 
dom would not see fit to grant it. 

But it is further objected, that prayer implies a desire 
and request on our part that God, the infinitely wise, and 
just, and good, would alter the course of the world, and 
of his own administration, in order to suit our wishes. 
He has marked out a certain course of action, has estab- 
lished certain laws and principles, according to which the 
course of nature moves on fi'om age to age. We come, 



OF WORSHIP. 



343 



in our folly and presumption, and ask him so far to alter 
and suspend these laws and this course of action, as to 
bring about some specific event, not included in the orig- 
inal plan, or to prevent the accomplishment of what, in 
the natural and established order of things, would take 
place. At first view, this objection appears formidable, 
the more so from the show of philosophy which it assumes. 
It is hardly necessary, as some writers have done, to bring 
forward an array of arguments drawn from science, in 
order to meet this objection. In this case, perhaps, as in 
many others, the best answer is the simplest and most ob- 
vious. It is this ; He who lays out the plan of the uni- 
verse and establishes its laws, takes into view the whole 
series of events; in this series of events, every prayer 
which we ofier, every desire we breathe, has its fixed place 
and influence, was foreseen, and its effect determined, from 
the outset. "We are not, therefore, in reality asking God 
to change the course of events, or the plan of the universe, 
when we offer to him our prayers, since those prayers are 
themselves a part of the established order. Dr. Whe- 
well has well expressed this : " In the spiritual world, 
the prayers of believers are events as real as their tempta- 
tions, their deliverance, their forgiveness ; and the former 
events may very naturally be conceived to produce an 
effect upon the latter. There is, therefore, in such prayers, 
nothing inconsistent with our belief in God's goodness and 
wisdom." To this he adds, what is doubtless true, that 
when we ask for temporal blessings, as for our daily bread, 
our prayers are rather an expression of our dependence on 
God, than of a desire that he would direct the course of 
the world according to our wishes. 

Of the real efficacy and value of prayer, we have the 
highest assurance, both in the encouragement to this duty 



344 



OF WORSHIP. 



which is presented in the sacred Scriptures, and .also the 
actual experience of its benefits by believers in all ages. 

Argument from Scripture. — The efiicacy and duty of 
prayer are set forth in the Scriptures in the plainest light. 
" Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find," 
is the language and spirit of the whole Bible. What can 
be more explicit than this language — and the like every- 
where abounds in sacred writings — as to the real efficacy 
and use of prayer ? Besides the general instructions and 
l^recepts which enjoin the duty of prayer, there are specific 
directions given as to the various objects for which we 
may properly ask. Examples also are given of prayer for 
specific objects, for private and for public benefits, for the 
remission of sins, for deliverance from temporal evils, and 
for whatever the soul of man most earnestly desires. And 
not only have we instances of prayer in the Scriptures, 
but of answers to prayer, and those almost innumerable. 
We are not presented with precepts and examples merely, 
but with manifest and practical results. That God an- 
swers the prayers of his children, and has done this in 
manifold ways, and instances too many to be repeated 
and too obvious to be mistaken, is as much a matter of his- 
tory as any event recorded in sacred or profane annals. 

Peter prayed, and the prison doors were opened, and 
his chains fell off. Joshua prayed, and the sun stood still 
over Gibeon, and the moon over the valley of Ajalon. 
Elijah prayed, and the child of the Shunamite was re- 
stored to life. Moses prayed, and the Lord forgave the 
iniquity of Israel. Again and again, in answer to his 
supplications, plague, and pestilence, and the swift judg- 
ments of Heaven were stayed, and the people saved. 
Christ prayed, and an angel stood at his side to comfort 
and strengthen him. 

From Christian Experience. — N"or is it from Scripture 



OF T^'ORSHIP. 



345 



alone that we derive evidence of the efficacy and vahie 
of prayer. The history of God's people in all ages and 
all times, the history of the renewed heart wherever found, 
is to the same effect. ^Vhoever, in humble, earnest suppli- 
cation, in a filial spirit, and with true faith, goes to God for 
those things which he desires, and which are proper objects 
of prayer, usually^ it is not too much to say, receives that 
for which he asks. I do not say always ; for it is possible 
that those things which we desire may not be in accord- 
ance with the divine will. Infinite Wisdom may perceive 
that it is not best on the whole, or best even for us, that 
the desire should be granted. Still the rule stands, not- 
withstanding all exceptions, that he who asketh anything 
of God, believing, shall receive. 

Why Enjoined. — If we ask, now, why such a practice 
is enjoined in the Scri^^tures, why prayer is made a duty, 
when doubtless the same blessings might be conferred with- 
out the asking, it may be sufiicient to reply, that it is due 
to the Supreme Ruler of events that we should in this 
manner recognize his sovereign sway, and our entire de- 
pendence on him for all the mercies of life. He will be 
inquii-ed of for these things. The good and wise fither 
may choose that his child shall asTc for that wliich he is 
ready to bestow. Ili is right and fitting that the child 
should do so. 

Such a procedure is of service also to the petitioner. It 
keeps alive in him the sense of his constant dependence on 
his God, which he might otherwise be ready to forget. It 
reminds him of the source whence all his blessings flow, 
and of his constant need of divine guidance and protection. 
It prepares him also to receive with grateful heart those 
favors which he asks, and to enjoy their reception so much 
the more as gifts from his Heavenly Father, in answer to 
his prayer. 



346 



OF WORSHIP. 



§ II. Of the Sabbath. 

If it is our duty, as we have already seen, to worship 
God, it would seem to be desirable and proper that there 
should be stated times for this worship. The observance 
of special days and occasions for this purpose, seems to be 
the dictate at once of reason and of natural religion, as 
indicated in the practice of all nations. Differences of 
opinion may exist as to the number and frequency of these 
occasions, and the proper method of their observance ; but 
no nation, it may safely be affirmed, that recognizes any 
religion, and any Deity, fails to consecrate to its religion 
and its God some special time as sacred to his worship. 

In treating this subject, it may be well to consider the 
^presumption in favor of a Sabbath ; the authority of the 
Sabbath as a positive institution ; and also, very briefly, the 
^yroper manner of ohserxning it. 

1. Peestjmptioit in Favor of a Sabbath. — It is a 
strong presumjDtion in favor of a Sabbath, that some occa- 
sion of this kind is desirable, if not absolutely necessary, 
as a period of rest^ both for man and beast, from the ordi- 
nary toil of life. If this be so, then the usefulness of the 
occasion is certainly an argument in its favor, and goes to 
establish the duty of its observance. It is a well-ascer- 
tained fact, that both body and mind require intervals of 
relaxation from accustomed toil. Facts show that the 
physical system requires such rest, and that its energies are 
exhausted, and its vital powers impaired, when this law is 
disregarded. It is equally true of the mental faculties. 
Not only will more intellectual labor be accomplished by 
the faithful adherence to this law of occasional rest, but it 
will be accomplished with less injury to the physical and 
mental constitution, with less waste of vigor and of life. 



OF WOESHIP. 



347 



These facts are so fully attested by scientific observation 
and general experience, and are now so generally known 
and admitted, that it is not necessary, in this connection, to 
enter into any argument to establish them. 

It is not merely useful to the laborer to rest for the time 
being from his toil, but the prospect of a day of rest and 
recreation approaching, refreshes and encourages him amid 
the labors of the week. Nor is it the body only that feels 
the refreshing influence. The mind, no less than the body, 
requires relaxation, and that change of employment which 
the Sabbath brings. True, the mind is never absolutely 
inactive; the rest which it needs is change of occupation, 
and not entire cessation of thought; but this change it 
does need, and precisely this the Sabbath furnishes, by 
directing our thoughts to objects which do not so fully 
come before them during the labors of the week. 

The influence of the Sabbath is in this way very consid- 
erable as an agent in promoting the happiness and civiliza- 
tion of the community. By afibrding intervals of rest and 
relief from the toils and cares of business, and the weari- 
ness of labor, it adds not merely to the physical and men- 
tal vigor, but to the sum of domestic and social enjoy- 
ment. It gives the busy laborer a day at home with his 
own family, and throws the refining and elevating influ- 
ence of social intercourse over many a mind, that would 
be otherwise shut up to the drudgery of constant toil. 

Needed for Moral and Religious Culture. — But it is 
chiefly as an opportunity of moral and religious culture, 
that the Sabbath is of advantage to man. Employed, as 
most men are, during the week, with active labor, whether 
of body or of mind, there is little leisure or inclination for 
religious thought, for self-culture and discipline, for prog- 
ress in the knowledge of divine truth and in the way to 



848 



OF WORSHIP. 



heaven. Were there no pause in this hurried march of life, 
no cessation from the din and uproar of the ever-moving 
machinery of worldly toil, there is danger that from most 
minds the thoughts of a higher life, and a purer state of 
existence, would quite fade away, and men would become 
mere animals and beast of burden, intent only on the grat- 
ifications, or busied only with the drudgery, of the present 
hour, — knowing and caring for nothing beyond. 

For all this, the periodical recurrence of the Sabbath, as 
a day specially devoted to moral and religious culture, 
and to the worship of God, affords the true, and, as I am 
inclined to think, the only practicable remedy. It calls 
the thoughts from other and merely secular employments, 
and invites us to the contemplation of those higher truths 
which concern our permanent and future well-being. As 
a matter of fact, it will be found that very little progress 
is made in religious culture, either by the individual, or by 
the nation, that dispenses entirely with the observance of 
the Sabbath as a day sacred to divine things. 

N'eeded for Social 'Worship. — Such a day is needed, 
moreover, not only for individual improvement, but for 
social worship. If men are to meet together for the wor- 
ship of God, and for instruction in religious truth, it is 
quite necessary that some set time and place should be 
appointed for the purpose, and that the worship should 
recur at regular intervals, so that all may know when and 
where the religious assembly is to be held, and arrange 
their affairs accordingly. The Sabbath provides for this. 
When the appointed day returns, every one knows that it 
is a day set apart for religious purposes; that the ordi- 
nary business of life is for the while suspended ; that the 
occupations of the shop, the desk, the counting-room, the 
field, the mill, are, by general consent, laid aside; and that 
mien will assemble on that day for religious instruction 



OF WORSHIP. 



849 



and worship. In consequence of this general understand- 
ing, men will not be seeking for us in our places of busi- 
ness, while we are engaged in public worship. Xor shall 
we, in turn, find the business of the week interrupted by 
tlie religious observances of our neighbors. If there is to 
be any such thing as social religious worship, it is mani- 
festly for the convenience of all, if not an indispensable 
necessity, tliat one and the same time should be observed, 
so far as possible, by all persons, for this purpose. For 
this, also, the Sabbath provides, and it is probably not too 
much to say, that, were the observance of tliis day dis- 
pensed with, public assemblies for religious worship would 
not long continue to be maintained in any country. There 
being no special time appropriated to that purpose, any 
time that might be selected would be found inconvenient, 
and gradually the practice of coming together for the 
worship of God in public assembly would go out of use. 

The reasons which have been mentioned are sufficient 
to show the use and great advantage of a Sabbath to the 
individual and to the community, and in this way they 
create a strong presumption in favor of such an institu- 
tion. 

Objection. — It is sometimes objected to the view now 
taken, that the observance of one day in seven as a period 
of rest, and of religious worship, is a serious loss to the 
community, by subtracting so much from the industry and 
available wealth of the nation. It is a loss of one-seventh 
of the time, and so of one-seventh of the resources of the 
laboring classes. This is entirely a mistake. It has already 
been stated, that both the physical and the mental consti- 
tution absolutely require rest; and tliat continuous labor, 
without interval of repose or change of occupation, wears 
out the system, and induces premature decay. This is 
true both of man and beast, both of him who works with 

30 



350 



OF WORSHIP. 



the hands, and of him who toils with the brain. If this 
be so, the periodical recurrence of a day of rest, so far 
from being a loss, is really a gain to the laborer, and to the 
whole community. One might as well complain that the 
time devoted to sleep, or to the taking of food, are so 
many hours lost out of every twenty-four ; that, were it 
not for this unfortunate and needless delay, men might 
work twenty hours instead of ten, and so double the 
amount of their present earnings. Doubtless this might 
be done for a time ; but it would be for a short time, and 
would prove no gain in the end. Nature demands rest and 
refreshment ; and whoever violates these fundamental laws 
of his constitution, and, under the pressure and excitement 
of business denies himself needful sleep, or needful food, 
or needful rest and recreation, finds himself a loser by the 
experiment. It is consuming the principal, for the sake of 
gaining higher interest ; it is throwing away the sails, in 
order to increase the speed of the ship. 

It is to be remembered, also, that even if nature could en- 
dure uninteiTupted toil, — which, as at present constituted, 
it cannot, — the addition of an extra day of labor to the six 
now employed, would be quite likely to reduce the price 
of labor, leaving the workman no better pay at the end of 
the week than he has now, but obliging him to work seven 
days for it, instead of six. This would be all he would 
gain. 

2. Institution and Attthoeitt op the Sabbath. — 
For reasons now stated, we need a Sabbath, and should be 
under the necessity of observing one, out of regard to our 
own best interests, even if none had been appointed by 
divine authority. It is certainly fair to presume, how- 
ever, that one has been appointed, inasmuch as the reasons 
for it are so weighty. It is not probable that Divine Wis- 



OF WORSHIP. 



351 



dom and Benevolence would overlook so important an 
item in the economy of human affairs, — would give man a 
nature requiring a Sabbath as a day of rest from toil, a 
day of social and domestic enjoyment, of individual moral 
culture, and of public worship, and not give him also the 
Sabbath itself. This would be much the same as if Deity 
were to create man with an appetite, and not supply the 
food adapted to its craving ; or with a disposition for 
sleep, and make no provision for hours suitable for repose. 

But, if a Sabbath has been instituted, then %ohen and 
Inhere f We find a day actually observed by all Chris- 
tian nations as a Sabbath, claiming to be such an institu- 
tion, and regarded, by many at least, as of divine authority. 
The question is, Has it such authority? Is the Christian 
Sabbath, in other words, either directly or indirectly an 
institution of divine appointment? 

What Authority for any Day. — We shall best answer 
this inquiry, by first raising the previous question. What 
authority is there for the observance of any day as a Sab- 
bath ? Is there any evidence that God has ever appointed 
any day for this purpose, with a view to its general ob- 
servance by the human family ? 

I reply : there is reason to believe that he has. There 
is reason to believe that at the very outset, at the crea- 
tion of our world and our race, the Creator set apart one 
day in seven as sacred to himself, to be observed by man, 
in all his generations and families, as a day of worship 
and of rest. The sacred narrative informs us that "on 
the seventh day God ended his work which he had made ; 
and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which 
he had made ; and God blessed the seventh day and sanc- 
tified it, because that in it he had rested from all his work 
which God created and made." ISTow it must be conceded 
that this passage, though not in manner and form a divine 



352 



OF WORSHIP. 



command to observe every seventh day, is at least a 
history of the institution of the Sabbath, and presents, 
at the same time, the reason why the day was thns set 
apart. It was thus consecrated, because on that day God 
had rested from all his work. N"ow the reason, it will be 
observed, is of a general nature — applicable as much to all 
times and nations, as to any one. It was not a reason 
why the Jews should observe the day, any more than why 
we should observe it. The institution, as then originated, 
could not have been intended for the Jews especially; 
for the Jews, as a nation, were not in existence until some 
two thousand years afterwards. The fact that it was 
instituted at the beginning, as well as the reason assigned 
for its institution, both show conclusively that it Avas de- 
signed for all nations, and all ages of the world. 

Paley's Yiew. — I am aware that eminent authorities 
have taken the ground that the Sabbath was not in reality 
instituted at the creation, but that the passage referred 
to merely assigns a reason, by way of anticipation, for 
an institution which came into existence hundreds of 
years after ; that is, when the Israelites were in the wil- 
derness, on their way from Egypt to Palestine. This is 
the view of Dr. Paley, among others. He infers this 
from the silence of the sacred narrative as to any such 
institution or observance, through all the intervening 
periods of history from the creation down to the exodus 
of the children of Israel, — a period of some twenty-five 
hundred years, — during which godly men without num- 
ber lived, keeping the divine precepts diligently, — and 
doubtless this among the rest, if any such precept or 
institution was in existence, — and yet not the remotest 
allusion do we find to any such observance during all 
this time. This silence he regards as unaccountable, on 
the supposition that all this while the Sabbath was in 



OF WORSHIP. 



353 



existence as a ^^ositive institution. Hence he infers that 
the transaction recorded in the sixteenth chapter of Exo- 
dus is the first actual institution of the Sabbath. 

The transaction to which he refers is the gathering of 
the manna in the wilderness, a double quantity of which 
was gathered on the sixth day: "And all the rulers of 
the congregation came and told Moses ; and he said unto 
them, This is that which the Lord hath said: To-mor- 
row is the rest of the holy Sabbath unto the LordP 
Now, by referring to the narrative, it will be seen that 
there is nothing here which wears the aspect of a new 
institution, — no command to observe an ordinance just 
then for the first time promulgated, but simply a reason 
assigned for the circumstance that a double portion of 
food was provided on that day, which reason was, that 
" to-morrow is the Sabbath," as if the simple mention of 
that fact would be suflicient to explain the whole thing. 
Tliis is certainly not the way in which any person at tlie 
head of government would be likely to announce a new 
law, or to establish a new institution. It looks rather as 
if the Sabbath was an institution already well known to 
the people, and which needed only to be mentioned, in 
order to be understood at once as a reason why they 
were not to gather manna on that as on other days. 

And so unquestionably it was. The division of time 
into weeks of seven days, is one of the earliest monuments 
of antiquity of which we have any record. It was the 
custom of the oriental nations from the very earliest 
period, — a custom prevalent in India, China, Arabia, 
Egypt, and Assyria, — and, not improbably, derived from 
the Jewish patriarchs, and so to be traced back to the 
original institution of the Sabbath at the creation. As- 
tronomers pronounce the week to be the most ancient 
monument of astronomical knowledge. It must have 

30* 



854 



OF WORSHIP. 



existed in Egypt at the time the Israelites dwelt there; 
and whatever may be the origin of the custom, whether 
derived from the Jewish patriarchs, and from the insti- 
tution of the Sabbath in Eden, or not, the simple fact 
that it was so ancient and so universal a custom thus 
to divide the time into periods of seven days, and that 
it w^as a custom with which the Israelites must have be- 
come familiar during their stay in Egypt, if never before, 
shows that it cannot have been a new institution at the 
time of which we speak. The rest of the seventh day 
is of earlier origin than the exodus of the Israelites, and 
the Mosaic institution, and there is every reason to regard 
it as having its source in the first revelation of the divine 
will ever made to man. 

The Jeioish Sahhath. — I am far from supposing, how- 
ever, that the Jewish Sabbath, as such, — that which was 
specially given to the Israelites in the wilderness, whether 
it was then first enacted, or only reenacted, and made a 
special ordinance, along with many others, for that peo- 
ple, — is an institution binding upon us. I claim for the 
Sabbath, as a divine institution, another and an earlier 
origin, a broader foundation, and a more universal de- 
sign, than pertained to the Sabbath of the Mosaic insti- 
tution. The Jewish, or Mosaic Sabbath, is always spoken 
of as a sign between God and the people of Israel : 
"Moreover, also, I gave them my Sabbath to be a sign 
between me and them ; " which implies that it was a 
pecidiar ordinance, not common to all nations, but a 
special institution designed for that one people. Other- 
wise it would have no significance as a sign, any more 
than the rising and setting of the sun, or any other well- 
known phenomenon common to all nations and ages of 
the world. Now, a Sabbath was, as I have shown, no 



OF WORSHIP. 



355 



new institiitioD, but common to all the oriental worid. 
It could not, therefore, as such, constitute a special sign 
between God and the people of Israel. That sign — the 
Jewish Sabbath — was not the universal Sabbath, insti- 
tuted at the creation, and designed for all nations and 
times, but a special and peculiar institution, designed for 
the Jews alone — a part of their ceremonial observances, 
of the same general character with their other sacred 
days and feasts, as of unleavened bread, of pentecost, 
and other similar occasions prescribed in the ritual. Its 
duties were peculiar. It was to be observed most strictly 
as a day of entire rest from all physical labor. This, and 
not religious worship, was the essential and prominent 
idea of the day, although both were, of course, included 
in its observance. The penalties for its violation were 
also peculiar. The least infringement upon its sacred 
hours, even for the preparation of the daily food, or the 
making a fire, was punishable, and actually punished, with 
death. ]!!^"ow, an institution thus peculiar in its design 
and purpose, in its duties and its j^enalties, cannot well 
be regarded as binding on other nations and times than 
that to which it was specially given, and for whom it was 
specially intended; otherwise we should be bound to 
regard not only the institution, but the specific day, the 
specific purpose, the specific duties and manner of observ- 
ance, and the peculiar penalties, as- likewise in force, and 
binding upon us. While, therefore, I regard the Sabbath 
as a divine institution, designed for all nations and ages 
of the world, and instituted at the beginning, I cannot 
regard the Jeicish Sabbath as identical with the universal 
and original one, but rather as a peculiar ordinance, hav- 
ing its specific design and its peculiar duties, and which, 
as such, and so far as it was Jewish^ passed out of exist- 



356 



OF WORSHIP. 



ence alons: with tlie whole ceremonial of which it was a 
part. 

Authority of the Christian Sahhath. — We are ready 
now to inquire what authority there is for the observance 
of the Christian Sabbath. We have seen that both nature 
and revelation point to the propriety and duty of observ- 
ing one day in seven as a day of rest and of worship. We 
must regard such observance, then, as a divine institution. 
But what day shall it be, and in what manner shall it be 
observed ? As to this, we have found as yet no direction. 
We have no reason to suppose, as I have already shown, 
that the Jewish Sabbath is binding on us, either as re- 
gards the day of the week, or the duties and manner of 
observance. We are at liberty, then, to adopt any other. 
We find in the Scriptures no command on this point. 
We find, however, in almost universal use among Chris- 
tian nations the observance of the first day of the week 
as a day sacred to religious jDurposes. We trace back 
this usage to the very earliest period of the Christian 
Church. We find traces of it among the early disciples to 
the Christian faith, in the first centuries of its eventful 
history. We find in the Xew Testament allusions to the 
custom as then existing ; mention, for example, of meet- 
ings of the Christian disciples on that day, for religious 
worship, and that in repeated instances. We infer that 
the observance of that day has at least the authority of 
apostolic usage, if not of any more direct and positive 
institution. There is in this a presumption, to say the 
least, that it may have something more than the sanction 
of early and general Christian usage — that it may have, 
in some sense, what it is generally understood to claim, the 
express sanction and authority of the inspired teachers and 
founders of the Christian faith. Still, it must be conceded. 



OF WORSHIP. 



35T 



tlie observance of that day, rather than any other, rests 
upon no positive command. The custom of Christian 
nations, the early and apparently apostolic usage, and the 
evident reasonableness of the usage, as a fit and proper 
tribute of respect to that great event, on which hang the 
hopes and destinies of the world, — the resurrection of our 
Lord, — constitute a sufficient basis and warrant for the 
observance, on our r)art, of the first day of the week as our 
Christian Sabbath. When asked, then, what is our author- 
ity for observing the first day of the week as a day of rest 
and of religious worship, we reply : The law of nature, and 
the divine sanction, both point to the duty of keeping 
some day, one day in seven, as sacred to religious uses; 
while custom, and the universal consent of Christian na- 
tions from the earliest times, as well as the great event 
commemorated, point to this day in particular as the one 
most appropriate for such observance. On these general 
grounds we are content to rest the matter. 

3. The Peoper Ma^^^ner of Observing the Sabbath. 
— The reasons for which the Sabbath exists, and which led 
to its institution, are the proper guide to its right observ- 
ance. We are under obligation to make such use of it as 
shall best conduce to those ends for which it was appointed, 
and thus carry out its great design. Whatever does this, 
is a right use of the Sabbath ; whatever fails of this, hov,- 
ever seemly and sacred in appearance, is a perversion of its 
true meaning and intent. 

And first, the natural, though not of necessity the cJiief 
reason, for the observance of the Sabbath, must not be 
overlooked. Nature demands it as a day of rest. So far as 
i:)0ssible, — so far, that is, as may consist with the necessary 
duties of life, and with the higher purposes of the day, — it 
should be observed as a day of entire cessation from the 



858 



OF WORSHIP. 



ordinary pursuits and occupations, — a day of rest both to 
"body and to mind. Not even religious services should be 
so multiplied, or so conducted, as to set aside and supersede 
this first law of the Sabbath. If in any manner, or by 
any mode of observance, the day becomes as laborious and 
exhausting to the powers of body and mind as other days 
of the week, it is no longer, in the proper sense, a Sabbath, 
whatever else it may be. 

But it is certainly not the lohole design of the Sabbath 
that it should be a period of rest. It is a day given for 
individual moral and religious culture; given for this 
purpose to every man, as individually responsible for his 
own moral improvement, and as needing for this purpose 
time for religious meditation, and for direct intercourse 
with the Divine Being. To this end the day is given, — a 
day of which the special and proper business is that now 
indicated ; given to every man as his sacred right, which 
no man may take from him, and which he has no right to 
take from himself, by any occupation inconsistent with the 
purpose of the day. Not even public religious observances 
should be allowed to deprive us of this individual use and 
benefit of the Sabbath, as a means of j)ersonal religious 
culture. 

We are not, however, to overlook the public worship of 
God in the solemn assembly. This is one, and one of the 
most obvious and important, of the appropriate duties of 
the Sabbath. It should have its place, but it should not 
be allowed to usurp the time which belongs to other and 
equally important duties. 

In a word, the Sabbath is a day of sacred rest, and of 
religious worship ; and whoever thus employs it, employs 
it aright. 



CONFLICT OF DTJTIES. 



In the preceding pages on Practical Ethics, we have 
discussed the duties which 2:)ertain more directly to self, 
to society, to the family, to the state, and to God. It may 
sometimes happen that, of these several classes, some one 
may present claims apparently in conflict with those of 
another. How shall these conflicting claims be recon- 
ciled? Which shall we obey? This is a question of 
some moment in practical ethics, and its brief considera- 
tion may fitly conclude our discussion of this department 
of the science. 

Strictly speaking, there can be no such thing as a con- 
flict of duties. Duties are never in collision ; obligations 
never clash. There is one, and but one, right thing to be 
done ; one, and but one, right course to pursue, all things 
considered; and whatever is in conflict with this, is not, 
and cannot be, a duty, whatever may seem to be its claims. 
The will of God, which is the rule of duty to man, 
whether as given in nature and the constitution of things, 
or in revelation, is always consistent with itself. Hence, 
to one and the same person, at one and the same moment, 
the path of duty never lies in opposite directions. 

Cases of apparent Conflict. — It is often difficult, never- 
theless, to determine what is the path of duty. Opposite 



360 



CONFLICT OF DUTIES. 



courses, which bear at least the semblance of obligation, 
j^resent their claims; and these claims are often in conflict 
with each other. It is, for examj^le, my duty as a good citi- 
zen to res^^ect and honor tlie state. But, suppose the state 
is not a proper object of respect, — its laws unjust, its pol- 
icy dishonorable, its whole character discreditable, — am I 
still to honor and respect it ? 

It is my duty as a citizen to support the government of 
my country by my influence, and, if necessary, by my per- 
sonal service. But, suppose it is engaged in an unjust and 
iniquitous war, or in measures revolting to sentiments of 
honor and justice, and the claims of humanity — am I still 
to maintain and defend it, on the principle, "My coun- 
try — right or wrong ? " 

In like manner, the duties of a parent to his family may 
seem to be inconsistent with those services which are due 
to society and the state, or with those which he owes to 
himself He is under obligation to provide for his own 
household. To do this effectually, may at times, and 
under the pressure of peculiar circumstances, require an 
amount of exertion inconsistent with a due regard to the 
lavv^s of life and health. Shall he disregard the latter, in 
his anxiety to secure the former? 

It is the duty of the child to honor and obey the parent. 
But, suppose the parent to be a wretched victim of intem- 
perance and vice — how can the child honor and respect 
such -a parent ? Or, suppose the commands of the parent to 
run counter to those of God — is the child, in such a case, 
absolved from the obligation of filial obedience? or is he 
to obey, whatever the command may be ? In general, sup- 
pose the laws of the family, or of the state, to conflict 
with the dictates of conscience and the laws of God, 
which shall be obeyed — God or man ? 

A General Rule. — These are cases not unlikely to 



CONFLICT OF DUTIES. 



361 



occur, and which, in fact, frequently do occur, in the course 
of events. They are questions of practical moment. It 
is difficult to lay down rules that shall meet all such cases. 
Without attempting to do this, it may, I think, be taken as 
a general rule, applicable to all such matters, that where 
there are conflicting claims, the preference is to be given 
to those which are in themselves the higher and the more 
important, which proceed from and rest upon the highest 
authority. Thus, the interests of society are wider, and its 
welfare of more consequence, than those of self So, also, 
with the interests of the family ; they are more and higher 
than those of the individual. The authority of the state 
is superior to the authority of the parent, and, other things 
being equal, is entitled, in consequence, to superior regard. 
It is an authority comprehensive^ in a measure, of the 
other. On the same principle, and a fortiori^ the claims 
and authority of God are comprehensive of and superior 
to all others; and where they come in conflict with the 
claims and authority of man, whether in society, in the 
family, or in the state, all such claims and obligations 
become null and void, and the law of God alone is bind- 
ing. 

On no other ^^rinciple can we justify any instance of dis- 
obedience to unjust and wicked legislation; as, for exam- 
ple, the refusal of Daniel to comply with the edict which 
forbade, for a given time, the worship of any God; the 
refusal of the three Jewish governors to fall down and 
worship the golden image that ISTebuchadnezzar had set up 
on the plain of Dura ; the refusal of the apostles to preach 
no more in the name of Christ, as ordered by the magis- 
trates; the refusal of the early Christians to abjure 
faith in Christ, and burn incense to heathen gods. The 
whole history of the Christian Church, of sacrifice and 
suffering and death for the faith and the truth, is a practi- 

31 



362 



CONFLICT OF DUTIES. 



cal recognition of this great principle. There had been no 
martyrs but for this higher law. 

It is important to be borne in mind, however, in all such 
cases of opposing and contradictory claims, that we are 
justified in refusing obedience to the plain and positive 
commands of those in authority, whether parents or rulers, 
only when such commands are plainly and unquestionably 
in conflict with the divine precepts. The case should be a 
plain one. If it be not so, — if there be room for reason- 
able doubt whether, after all, there is any real discrepancy 
between the two authorities, the divine and the human, — 
we are not, as it seems to me, merely on the strength of 
that doubt and uncertainty, to set aside the direct and 
positive demands of human legislation. Much less are we 
to set up our own notions as law, and slide into the belief 
that, because a given course is highly pleasing or displeas- 
ing to us, it is equally so to the divine mind. Our inclina- 
tions and prejudices may, or may not, be coincident with 
truth, and the divine will. At all events, they are not 
our guide. 



AUTHOEITIES. 



The following works may be consulted with profit by the 
critical reader, who wishes to acquaint himself with the lit- 
erature of the department. 

ENGLISH AUTHORS. 

Foley. — Moral Philosophy. 

Whewell. — Elements of Morality. 

Cudworth. — Eternal and Immutable Morality. 

Steioart. — Active and Moral Powers. 

Jleid. — Essays on the Active Powers. 

Cogan. — Ethical Treatise. 

" Ethical Questions. 
Smith, Adam. — Theory of Moral Sentiments. 
Cudworth. — Intellectual System. 
Price (Vr. B.). — Review of Morals. 

" " Dissertations. 
Hutcheson. — Inquiry into the Ideas of Beauty and Virtue. 
Taylor (Dr. J.). — Examination of do. 

" " Sketch of Moral Philosophy. 

Ferguson (Dr. ^.)- — Institutes of Moral Philosophy. 
Campbell (Dr. J.rc?i.). — Inquiry into the Original of Moral Virtue 



364 



AUTHORITIES. 



Hume (David). — Treatise of Human Nature. 

" " Inquiry concerning the Principles of Morality. 

Butler. — Sermons on Human Nature. 
Abercrombie (J.). — Philosophy of the Moral Feelings. 
Hampden (B. ). — Lectures on Moral Philosophy. 
M'Cosh. — Divine Government. 
Shaftesbury. — Inquiry Concerning Virtue. 
Warburton. — Divine Legation. 

Clark, Samuel. — Evidence of Natural and Kevealed Religion. 
Hobbes. — Leviathan. 

Beniham. — Principles of Morals and Legislation. 

" Deontology. 
Taylor, Jeremy. — Rule of Conscience. 
More, Henry. — Enchiridion Ethicum. 



AMERICAN AUTHORS. 

Wayland. — Elements of Moral Science. 

Hickok. — System of Moral Science. 

Wi7islow. — Elements of Moral Philosophy. 

Alexander. — Moral Philosophy, 

Bowen (Fr.). — Metaphysics and Ethics. 

Mahan. — Moral Philosophy. 

Edwards (President). — The Nature of True Virtue. 



GREEK AUTHORS. 

PZato. — Opera (Ed. Stallbaum), especially Crito, Phsedo, Republic, 
and Gorgias ; (Euvres, Traduites par Cousin ; also, English editions by 
Cary and by Taylor. 

Aristotle. — Ethicorum and Nicomachum libri. Ethics and Politics, 
translated by Gillies. Also, Ethics, translated by Browne, and do. by 
Taylor. 



AUTHORITIES. 



LATIN AUTHORS. 



Cicero. — De Officiis. 
" Tusculanse Disputationes. 
" De Leffibus. 



FRENCH AUTHORS. 

Cousin, — (Euvres completes. 

" Fragmens Philosophiques, 
" Psychology (Tr. Henry), 
" The True, the Beautiful, and the Good. 
Damiron. — Cours de Philosophie — Morale. 
Descartes. — (Eu^'res Completes (Cousin), especially, 
" Meditations — Discours de la Methode. 
Jouffroy. — Noveaux Melanges Philosophiques. 

" Introduction to Ethics (Tr. Channing). 
Malebranche. — Recherche de la Yerite. 

" Traite de Morale. 

Arne'dee Jacques. — Man. de Phil, a I'usage des coll. 
Dictionnaire des Sciences Philosophiques — art. Morale. 



% 

GERMAN AUTHORS. 

Kant. — Werke (Herausg. von Rosenkrantz^. 

" Critik der Urtheilskraft. 

" Metaphysik der sitten; also, 

" Metaphysics of Ethics (transl. Semple). 

" Rechtslehre. 
Jacobi. — Werke. 

JRosenkrantz. — Psychologic, oder die "Wissench. von subj. 
Hegel. — Werke, voUstandige Ausgabe. 

" Encyclopadie der Wissenchaften. 
ScheUing. — Philosophische Schriften. 
Leibnitz. — Werke. 

" Noveaux Essais. 

31* 



366 



AUTHORITIES. 



On Civil Government, and Duties to the State, the fol- 
lowing works may be consulted: 

Flato. — Republic and Laws. Crito. 
Aristotle. — Politics. 
Cicero. — De Repub. 
Montesquieu. — Spirit of Laws. 

Burlamaqui. — Principles of Natural and Political Law. 
Fuffendorf. — Law of Nature and Nations. 
Gognet. — Origin of Laws. 
Blackstone. — Commentaries, Book L 
Locke. — Civil Government. 

Wines. — Commentary on Hebrew Laws — Introductory Essay. 
Constitution of the United States, and of tlie several States. 

On the History of Ethical Opinions, the following are 
the principal authorities : 

Cousin. — Lectures on History of Philosophy. 

Hitter. — History of Ancient Philosophy. 

Schwegler. — (Seelye Translat.) History of Philosophy. 

Tennemann. — (Johnson Trans.) Manual of History of Philosophy. 

Mackintosh, Sir J. — Ethical Philosophy. 

Stewart, Dugald. — Dissertations on History of Philosophy. 

Whewdl. — History of Moral Philosophy in England. 

Mordl — 'Bistory of Philosophy. 




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1. The Completeness with which it presents the whole subject. Text-books generally treat 
of only one class of faculties ; this work includes the whole. 2. It is strictly and thoroughly Sci- 
entific. 3. It presents a careful analysis of the mind, as a whole. 4. The history and literature 
of each topic. 5. The latest results of the science. 6. The chaste, yet attractive style. 7. The 
remarkable condensation of thought. 

Prof. Park, of Andover, says : " It is distinguished for its clearness of style, perspicuity of 
method, candor of spirit, acumen and comprehensiveness of thought." 

The work, though so recently published, has met with most remarkable success ; having bees 
already introduced into a large number of the leading colleges and schools in various parts of tho 
country, and bids fair to take the place of every other work on the subject now before the public. 

THESAUBUS OF ENGLISH WOBDS AND PHBASES, so classi- 
fied and arranged as to facilitate the expression of ideas, and assist in literary composi- 
tion. New and Improved Edition. By Peteb Mabk Roget, late Secretary of the Royal 
Society, London, &c. Revised and edited, with a List of Foreign Words defined in Eng- 
lish, and other additions, by Babnas Sears, D. D., President of Brown University. A 
New Ameeican Edition, with Additions and Improvements. 12mo, cloth, $1.50. 

This edition is based on the London edition, recently issued. The first American Edition hav- 
ing been prepared by Dr. Sears for strictly educational purposes, those words and phrases properly 
termed " vulgar," incorporated in the original work, were omitted. These expurgated portions have, 
in the present edition, been restored, but by such an arrangement of the matter as not to inters 
fere with the educational purposes of the American editor. Besides this, it contains important 
additions of words and phrases not in the English edition, making it in all respects more full and 
perfect than the author's edition. The work has already become one of standard authority, both 
In this country and in Great Britain. 

PALEY'S NATUBAL THEOLOGY. Illustrated by forty Plates, with 
Selections from the Notes of Dr. Paxton, and Additional Notes, Original and Selected, 
with a Vocabulary of Scientific Terms. Edited by John Ware, M. D. Improved edition, 
with elegant newly engraved plates. 12mo, cloth, embossed, $1.25. 

This work is very generally introduced into our best Schools and Colleges throughout the coun- 
try. An entirely new and beautiful set of Illustrations has recently been procured, which, with 
Other improvements, render it the best and most complete work of the kind extant. 

(33) 



VALUABLE TEXT-BOOKS. 



PBINOIPLES OF ZOOLOGY; Touching the Structure, Development, Dis. 
tribution, and Natural Arrangement, of the Racks of Animals, living and extinct 
with numerous lUusti-dtions. For the use of Schools and Colleges. Part I. Com- 
parative Physiology. By Louis Agassiz and Augustus A. Gould. Revised edi. 
tioa, 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

" It is not a mere book, but a work — a real work in the form of a book. Zoology is an interesting 
ecience, and here is treated with a masterly hand. It is a work adapted to colleges and schools, and 
no young man should be without it." — Scientific American. 

" Tills work places us in possession of information half a century in advance of all our elementary 
works on this subject. . . No work of the same dimensions has ever appeared in the EngUsh lan- 
guage containing so much new and valuable information."— Pkof. James Hall, Albany. 

" The best book of the kind in our language."— Christian Examiner. 

PBITSrCIPIiES OF ZOOLOGY, PART II. Systematic Zoology. In 
preparation. 

THE ELEMENTS OF GEOLOGY ; adapted to Schools and Colleges. With 
numerous Illustrations. By J. R. Looaus, President of Lewisburg University, Pa. 
12mo, cloth, 75 cts. 

" It La surpassed by no work before the American public." — if. B. Anderson, LL. D., President 
Hochester University. 

" This is just such a work as is needed for our schools. We see no reason why it should not 
take its place as a text-book in all the schools in the land." — K. Y. Observer. 

"Admirably adapted for use as a text-book in common schools and academies." — Congregation- 
alist, Boston. 

ELEMENTS OF MOBAL SCIENCE. By Frakcis Watland, D. D., late 
President of Brown University. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

MOBAL SCIENCE ABBIDGED, and adapted to the use of Schools and 
Academies, by the Author. Half morocco, 50 cts. 

The same. Cheap School Edition, boards, 25 cts. 

This work is used in the Boston Schools, and is exceedingly popular as a text-book wherever it 
has been adopted. 

ELEMENTS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY. By Francis Wayland, 
D. D. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

POLITICAL ECONOMY ABBIDGED, and adapted to the use of Schools 
and Academies, by the Author. Half morocco, 50 cts. 

"It deserves to be introduced into every private family, and to be studied by every man who 
has an interest in the wealth and prosperity of his country. It is a subject little understood, even 
practically, by thousands, and still less understood theoretically. It is to be hoped this will form 
a clrtss book, and be faithfully studied in our academies, and that it will find its way into every 
family library ; not there to be shut up unread, but to afford rich material for thought and discus- 
sion in the family circle." — Puritan Recorder. 

All the above Works by Dr. Wayland are used as text-books in most of the colleges and higher 
schools throughout the Union, and are highly approved. 



!0' G. tf L. keep, in addition to works published by themselves, an extensive assort- 
ment of works published by others., in all departments of trade, which they supply 
at publishers' prices. They invite the attention of Booksellers, Travelling Agents, 
Teachers, School Committees, Clergymen, and Professional men generally (to whom, 
a liberal discoiint is uniformly made), to their extensive stock. Copies of Text-hooks 
for examination will be sent by mail or otherwise, to any one transmitting one 
HALF the price of the same. 0= Orders from any part of the country promptly 
attended to with faithfulness and despatch. (33) 



YALITABLE SCHOOL BOOKS. 



ROMAN" ANTIQUITIES AND AN"CIEN"T MYTHOLOGY. By 

C. K. DiLLAWAY. Illustrated by elegant Engravings. 12mo, half mor., 67 cts. 

THE YOUNG LADIES' CLASS BOOK: a Selection of Lessons for Reading, 
in Prose and Terse. By EBE^^:zEB Bailey, A. M. Cloth embossed, 84 cts. 

" I have examined, with much interest, the Young Ladies' Class Book, by Mr. Bailey, and have 
been very highly pleased with its contents. I regard it as not only remarkably veil fitted to answer 
its particular object as a book of exercise in the art of elocution, but as calculated to have an influ- 
ence upon the character and conduct which will be in every respect favorable," — Jacob Abboti. 

EASY LESSONS IN ENGLISH GRAMMAR, for Young Beginners. 
By W. S. Barton, A. M. 12mo, half mor. 50 cts. 

A NEW INTERMEDIATE SYSTEM OF ENGLISH GRAM- 
MAR. By W. S. Barton, A. M. 12mo, half mor., 75 cts. 

Designed as a Text-book for the use of schools and academies. It is the restilt of long experi- 
ence, and will be found to possess many and peculiar merits. 

PRACTICAL EXERCISES IN ENGLISH COMPOSITION; or, 

The Young Composer's Gcide. By W. S. Barton, A. M. 12mo, half mor., 75 cts. 

Designed as a SEQUEL to the author's Xew System of English Grammar, which forms 
a gradual introduction to the first principles of composition. The plan pursued in these exercises, 
OS ill the Grammar, is founded on the application of the principle of imitation. The pupil is con- 
ducted progressively from the simplest expression of thought to the practice of connected compo- 
eition. 

BLAKE'S NATURAL PHILOSOPHY; being Conversations on Philosophy, 
with Explanatory Notes, Questions for Examination, and a Dictionary of Philosophical 
Terms. With twenty-eight Steel Engravings. By J. L. Blake, D. D. Sheep, 67 cts. 

Perhaps no work has contributed so much as this to excite a fondness for the study of Natural 
Philosophy in youthful minds. The familiar comparisons with which it abounds awaken interest 
and rivet the attention of the pupil. 

BLAKE'S FIRST BOOK IN ASTRONOMY; designed for the use of 
Common Schools, niust. with steel-plate Engravings. By J. L. Blake, D. D. Cloth 
back, 50 cts. 

" I know of no other work so well calculated to interest and instruct young learners in this 
sublime science." — Barnum Field, Boston. 

THE CICERONIAN; or, the Prussian method of teaching the elements of the 
Latin Language. Adapted to the use of American Schools. By Prof. Barnas Sears, 
President of Brown University. ISmo, half mor., 50 cts. 

MEMORIA TECHNICA ; or, the Art of Abbreviating those Studies which give 
the greatest labor to the memory. By L. D. Johnson. Half bovmd, 50 cts. 

WRITING COPIES, Plain and Ornamental, from the "Progressive Penmano 
ship," bound in one Book, 16§ cts. 

PROGRESSIVE PENMANSHIP, Plain and Ornamental, for the use of 

Schools. By X. D. Gould, Author of "Beauties of Writing," " Writing Master's Assist- 
ant," &c. In five parts, each 12k cts. 

The copies are arranged in progressive series, and are likewise so diversified by the introduction 
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folded that a copy always comes over the top of the page on which it is to be written. 

There are ninety-six copies, presenting a regular inductive system of Penmanship for ordinary 
business purposes, followed by examples of every variety of Ornamental Writing. 

This work is introduced into many of the Boston Public and Private Schools, and gives univer- 
sal satisfaction. fQt\ 



VALUABLE BIOGRAPHIES. 



EXTBACTS FROM THE DIABY AND COBBESPOETDEM-CE 
OP THE LATE AMOS LAWBENCE. With a brief account of some 
Incidents in his Life. Edited by his son, Wm. R. Lawrence, M. D. "With elegant Por- 
traits of Amos and Abbott Lawrence, an Engraving of their Birthplace, an Autograph 
page of Handwriting, and a copious Index. One large octavo volume, cloth, $1.50 ; royal 
12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

A MEMOIB OF THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ISAAC BACKUS. 

By Alt AH Hotby, Professor of Ecclesiastical History in Newtou Theological Institution. 
12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

This work gives an account of a remarkable man, and of a remarkable movement in the middla 
of the last century, resulting in the formation of what were called the " Separate " Churches. It 
supplies an important deficiency in the history of New England affairs. For every Baptist, espe- 
cially, it is a necessary book. 

LIFE OF JAMES MONTGOMEBY. By Mrs. H. C. Knight, author of 
" Lady Huntington and her Friends," &c. Likeness and elegant Illustrated Title-Page 
on steel. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

, This is an original biography, prepared from the abundant but ill-digested materials contained 
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come such a memoir of a poet whose hymns and eacred melodies have been the delight of every 
household. 

MJjMOIB OF BOGEB WILLIAMS, Founder of the State of Rhode Island. 
By Prof. William Gammell, A. M, 16mo, cloth, 75 cts, 

PHILIP DODDBIDGtE. His Life and Labors. By John Stoughton, D. D. With 
an Introductory Chapter, by Rev. James G. Miall, Author of " Footsteps of our Fore- 
fathers," &c. With beautiful Illustrated Title-page and Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 60 
cents. 

THE LIFE AND COBBESPONDENCE OF JOHN FOSTEB. 

Edited by J. E. Ryland, with notices of Mr. Foster, as a Preacher and a Companion. 
By John Sheppard. A new edition, two volumes in one, 700 pages. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

^'In simplicity of language, in majesty of conception, his writings are unmatched." — iVo7-tA 
British Review. 

THE LIFE OF GODFBEY WILLIAM VON LEIBNITZ. By John 
M. Mackie, Esq. On the basis of the German work of Dr. G. E. Gohbauer. 16mo, cloth, 
75 cts. 

" It merits the special notice of all who are interested in the business of education, and deserves 
a place by the side of Brewster's Life of Nekton, in all the libraries of our schools, academies, and 
literary institutions." — Watchman and Reflector. 



MEMOBIES OF A GBANDMOTHEB. By a Lady of Massachusetts. 
16mo, cloth, 50 cts. 

" My path lies in a valley, which I have sought to adorn with flowers. Shadows from the 
hills cover it ; but I make my own sunshine." — ■ Author'a Preface. 

THE TEACHEB'S LAST LESSON. A Memoir of Martha Whtting, late 
of the Charlestown Female Seminary^ with Reminiscences and Suggestive Reflections. 
By Catharine N. Badger, an Associate Teacher. With a Portrait, and an Engraving 
of the Seminary. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

The subject of this Memoir was, for a quarter of a century, at the head of one of the most cele- 
brated female seminaries in the country. During that period she educated more than three thou- 
tand young ladies. She wag a kindred spirit to Mary Lyon, ( 1 T> 



IMPORTANT NEW WORKS. 



CYCLOPJEDIA OF AITECDOTES OF LITERATURE AND 
THE FINE ARTS. Containing a copious and choice Selection of Anecdotes 
of the various forms of Literature, of the Arts, of Architecture, Engravings, Music, 
Poetry, Painting, and Sculpture, and of the most celebrated Literary Characters and 
Artists of different Countries and Ages, &c. By Kazlitt Arvink, A. M., author of 
" Cyclopaedia of Moral and Religious Anecdotes." With numerous Illustrations. 725 pp. 
octavo. Cloth, $3.00 ; sheep, $3.50 ; cloth, gilt, $4.00 ; half calf, $4.00. 

This is unquestionably the choicest collection of Anecdotes ever published. It contains three 
thousand andforUj Anecdotes : and such is the wonderful variety, that it will be found an almost 
inexhaustible fund of interest for every class of readers. The elaborate classification and Indexes 
must commend it especially to public speakers, to the various classes of literary and scientific men, 
to artists, mechanics, and others, as a Dictionary for reference, in relation to facta on the num- 
berless subjects and characters introduced. There are also more than one hwidred and fifty fine 
Illustrations. 

THE LIFE OP JOHU" MILTON", Narrated in Connection with the Political, 
Ecclesiastical, and Literary History of his Time. By David Massojj, M.A., Pi-ofessor 
of English Literature, University College, London. Vol. i., embracing the period from 
1608 to 1639. With Portraits, and specunens of his handwriting at different periods. 
Royal octavo, cloth, $0.00. 

This important work will embrace three royal octavo volumes. By special arrangement with 
Prof. Masson, the author, G. & L. are permitted to print from advance sheets furnished them, as 
the authorized American publishers of this magnificent and eagerly looked for work. Volumes two 
and three will follow in due time ; but, as each volume covers a definite period of time, and also 
embraces distinct topics of discussion or history, they will be published and sold independent of 
each other, or furnished in sets when the three volumes are completed. 

THE GREYSON LETTERS. Selections from the Correspondence of R. E. H. 
Greyson, Esq. Edited by Hrnry Rogers, author of "Eclipse of Faith." 12mo, cloth, 
$1.25. 

" Mr. Greyson and Mr. Rogers are one and tha same person. The whole work is from his pen, 
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entitles Mr. Rogers to rank with Sydney Smith and Charles Lamb as a wit and humorist, and with 
Bishop Butler as a reasoner. Mr. Rogers' name will share with those of Butler and Pascal, in the 
gratitude and veneration of posterity." — Xondon Quarterly. 

" A book not for one hour, but for all hours ; not for one mood, but for every mood ; to think 
over, to dream over, to laugh OY^r." — Boston Journal. 

"The Letters are intellectual gems, radiant with beauty, happily intermingling the grave and 
the gay. — Christian Observer. 

ESSAYS IN BIOGRAPHY AND CRITICISM. By Peter Bayne, M. 
A., author of "The Christian Life, Social and Individual." Arranged in tW9 Series, or 
Parts. 12mo, cloth, each, $1.25. 

These volumes have been prepared by the author exclusively for his American publisher*, and 
are now published iu uniform style. They include nineteen articles, viz. : 

FiEST Series :— Thomas De Quincy. — Tennyson end his Teachero. — Mrs. Barrett Brown- 
ing.— Recent Aspects of British Art. —John Buskin. — Hugh IVIiller. — The Modern Novel; 
Dickens, &c. — Ellis, Acton, and Currer BelL 

Second Series :— Charles Kingsley. — S. T. Coleridge.-- T. B. Macaulay. — Alison. — "Wel- 
lington. — Napoleon. — Plato. — Characteristics of Christian Civilization. — The Modern University, 
— The Pulpit and the Press. — Testimony of the Rocks : a Defence. 

VISITS TO EUROPEAN CELEBRITIES. By the Rev. Willlim.B. 

Sprague, D. D. 12mo, cloth, $1.00 ; cloth, gilt, $1.50. 

A series of graphic and life-like Personal Sketches of many of the most distinguished men and 
women of Europe, portrayed as the Author saw them in their own homes, and under the most 
advantageous circumstances. Besides these " pen and ink " sketches, the work contains the novel 
attraction of a facsimile of the signature of each of the persons introduced. (g 



VALUABLE WORKS. 



THE LIMITS OF RELIGIOUS THOUGHT EXAMINED. By 

Henkt Losgueville Mansel, B. D.,Prof. of Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy, Mag- 
dalen College, Oxford, Editor of Sir William Hamilton's Lectures, etc. etc. With the 
Copious Notes of the volume translated for the American Edition. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

This is a masterly production, and may be safely said to be one of the most important workt 
of the day. 

FIRST THINGS; or, The Development of Church Life. By Baboji Stow, D. D. 
16mo, cloth, 75 cts. 

HEAVEN". By JiiiiES William Kimball. With an elegant vignette title-page. 
12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

" The book is full of beautiful ideas, consoling hopes, and brilliant representations of human 
destiny, all presented in a chaste, pleasing and very readable style.*' — M.T. Chronicle. 

THE PROGRESS OF BAPTIST PRINCIPLES IN THE LAST 
HUNDRED YEARS. By T. F. Curtis, Professor of Theology in the Lewisbur^* 
University, Pa., and author of " Communion," &c. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

Eminently -worthy of the attention, not only of Baptists, hut of all other denominations. In hia 
preface the author declares that his aim has been to draw a wide distinction between parties and 
opinions. Hence the object of this volume is not to exhibit or defend the Baptists, but their prin- 
ciples. It is confidently pronoimced the best exhibition of Baptist views and principles extant. 

THOUGHTS ON THE PRESENT COLLEGIATE SYSTEM in the 
United States. By Francis Watland, D. D. 16mo, cloth, 50 cents. 

SACRED RHETORIC ; or, Composition and Delivery of Sermons. By H. J. 
Ripley, D. D., Prot in Newton Theol. Inst. To which is added. Dr. Ware's Hints 
ON Extemporaneous Preaching. Second thousand. 12mo, cloth, T5 cts. 

THE PULPIT OF THE REVOLUTION; or. The Political Sermons of the 
Era of 1776. With an Introduction, Biographical Slcetches of the Preachers and Histori- 
cal Notes, etc. By John Wingatk Thornton, author of " The Landing at Cape Anne," 
etc. 12mo, cloth. In press. 

THE EIGHTEEN CHRISTIAN CENTURIES. By the Rev. James 
White, author of " Landmarks of the History of England." 12mo, cloth. In press. 

THE PLURALITY OF "WORLDS. A New Edition. With a Supplement- 
art Dialogue, in which the author's Reviewers are reviewed, lino, cloth, $1.00. 

This masterly production, which has excited bo much interest in this Muntry »nd in Europe, 
will now have an increased attraction in the addition of the Supplement, in which the author's 
reviewers are triumphantly reviewed. 

THE CAMEL ; His Organization, Habits, and Uses, considered with reference to his 
introduction into the United States. By George P. Mabsh, late U. S. Minister at Con- 
Btantinople. 12mo, cloth, 63 cts. 

This book treats of a subject of great interest, especially at the present time. It furnishes a more 
complete and reliable account of the Camel than any other in the language ; indeed, it is believed 
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vation, on the part of the author, and it has been prepared with special reference to the experiment 
of domesticating the Camel in this country, now going on under the auspices of the United States 
government. It is written in a style worthy of the distinguished author's reputation for great learn- 
ing and fine SChoIaiehift (36) 



VALUABLE WORKS 

PUBLISHED BY 

GOULD AND LINCOLN, 

69 WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON. 



THE CHRISTIAW LIFE ; Social and Isdividual. ^By Pitkr Batkb, M. A. 

r2mo, cloth, $1.25. 

There is but one voice respecting this extraordinary book, — men of all denoiiunationi, in all 
quarters, agree in pronouncing it one of the most admirable works of the age. 

MODEHN" ATHEISM ; Under its forms of Pantheism, Materialism, Secularism, 
Development, and Natural Laws. By Jamss Buchanan, D. D., L. L. D. 12mo, cloth, 
$1.25. 

" The work is one of the most readable and solid which we have ever perused." — Hugh Miller 
in the Witness. 

NEW EUGIjAWD THEOCE.ACY. From the German of Uhden's History of 
the Congregationalists of New England, with an Introduction by Neakder. By Mrs. 
H. C. CoNANT, author of " The English Bible," etc. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

A work of rare ability and interest, presenting the early religious and ecclesiastical history of 
New England, from authentic sources, with singular impartiality. The author evidently aimed 
throughout to do exact justice to the dominant party, and all their opponents of every name. The 
standpoint from which the whole subject is viewed is novel, and we have in this volume a new 
and most important contribution to Puritan History. 

THE MISSION" OP THE COMPORTEB ; with copious Notes, By Julius 
Charles Hare. With the Notes translated for the American Edition. 12mo, cloth, 
$1.25. 

THE BETTER LAND ; or, The Believer's Journey and Future Home. By the 
Rev. A. C. Thompson. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

A most charming and instructive book for all now journeying to the " Better Land." 

THE EVENING OP LIPE ; or, Light and Comfort amidst the Shadows of De- 
clining Years. By Rev. Jeremiah Chaplin, D. D. A new Revised, and much en 
larged edition. With an elegant Frontispiece on Steel. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

Gg?" A most charming and appropriate work for the aged, — large type and open page. An 
admirable " Gift" for the child to present the parent. 

THE STATE OP THE IMPENITENT DEAD. By Alvah Hgvkt, 
D. D., Prof, of Christian Theology in Newton Theol. Inst. 16mo, cloth, 60 cts. 

A WREATH AROUND THE CROSS; or, Scripture Truths Illustrated. 
By the Rev. A. Morton Brown, D. D. Recommendatory Preface, by John Angell 
James. With a beautiful Frontispiece. 16mo, cloth, 60 cts. 

" ' Christ, and Him crucified ' is presented in a new, striking, and matter-of-fact light. The style 
is simple, without being puerile, and the reasoning is of that truthful, persuasive kind that 'comes 
from the heart, and reaches the h«art.' "~ jV. Y. Observer. (1 



WORKS FOR CHURCH MEMBERS. 



THE CHRISTIAN'S DAILT TREASURY; a EeUgious Exercise for every 
Day in the Year. By Rev. E. Temple. A new and improved edition. 12mo, cloth, 
$1.00. 

A work for every Christian. It is indeed a " Treasury " of good things. 

THE SCHOOL OP CHRIST; or, Christianity Tiewed in its Leading Aspects. 
By the Rev. A. R. L. Foote, author of " Incidents in the Life of our Saviour," etc. 
16mo, cloth, 50 cts. 

THE CHRISTIAN" PASTOR ; His Work and the Needful Preparation. By 
Alvah Hovet, D. D., Prof, of Theology in the Newton Theol. List. 16mo, pp. 60 ; 
flexible cloth, 25 cents ; paper covers, 12 cents. 

APOLLO S; or, Directions to Persons just commencing a Religious Life. 32ino, paper 
covers, cheap, for distribution, per hundred, $6.00. 

THE HARVEST AUTD THE REAPERS. Home Work for All, and how to 
do it. By Rev. Harvey Newcomb. 16mo, cloth, 63 cts. 

This -work is dedicated to the converts of 1858. It shows what may be done, by showing what haa 
been done. It shows how much there is now to be done at home. It shows how to do it. Every 
man interested in the work of saving men, every professing Christian, will find tliis work to be for 
him. 

THE CHURCH-MEMBER'S MANUAL of Ecclesiastical Principles, Doc- 
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ley, D. D. Second edition, revised and improved. 12mo, cloth, 75 cts. 

THE CHURCH-MEMBER'S HAND-BOOK; a Plain Guide to the Doc 
trines and Practice of Baptist Churches. By the Rev. William Crowell, D. D. 
18mo, cloth, 38 cts. 

THE CHURCH-MEMBER'S GUIDE. By the Rev. John A. James. Edited 
by J. 0. Choules, D. D. New edition. With Introductory Essay, by Rev. Hcbbard 
WiNSLOw. Cloth, 33 cts. 

" The spontaneous effusion of our heart, on laying the book down, was : ' May every church- 
member in our land pyossess this book, and be blessed with all the happiness which conformity to 
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THE CHURCH IN E ARNEST. By Rev. John A. Jaj^tes. 18mo, cloth, 40 cts. 

" Its arguments and appeals are well adapted to prompt to action, and the times demand such a 
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" Those who have the means should purchase a number of copies of this work, and lend them 
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CHRISTIAN PROGRESS. A Sequel to the Anxious Inquirer. By Joeh 
Akgell James. ISmo, cloth, 31 cts. 

One of the best and most useful works of this popular author. 

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publishers' excellent publications. It exhibits the whole subject of growth in grace with great 
simplicity and clearness." — Punta« ifecorrfer. (12) 



WORKS FOR BIBLE STUDENTS. 



KITTO'S POPULAR CYCLOPEDIA OF BIBLICAL LITEBA. 
TUBE. Condensed from the larger work. By the Author, John Kitto, D. D. As- 
sisted by James Taylok, D. D., of Glasgow. With over five hundred Illustrations. One 
volume, octavo, 812 pp. Cloth, $3.00 ; sheep, $3.60; cloth, gilt, $4.00 ; half calf, $4.00. 

A DicTiojTART OF THE BiBLE. Serving, also, as a Commentary, embodying the products of 
the best and most recent researches in biblical literature in which the scholars of Europe and 
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by the contributions of writers of distinguished eminence in the various departments of sacred liter- 
ature, has been, by universal consent, pronounced the best work of its class extant, and the one best 
suited to the advanced knowledge of the present day in all the studies connected with theological 
science. It is not only intended for ministers and theological students, but it is also particularly 
adapted to parents, Sabbath-school teachers, and the great body of the reUgious public. 

THE HISTORY OP PALESTINE, ftom the Patriarchal Age to the Present 
Time ; with Chapters on the Geography and Natural History oi the Country, the Cus- 
toms and Institutions of the Hebrews. By JoHU Kitto, D. D. With upwards of two 
hundred Illustrations. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

A work adnurably adapted to the Family, the Sabbath, and the week-day School Library. 

ANALYTICAL CONCORDANCE TO THE HOLY SCRIP- 
TURES ; or, the Bible presented under Distinct and Classified Heads or Topics. By 
John Eadie, D, D., LL. D., Author of " Biblical Cyclopaedia," "Ecclesiastical Cyclopze- 
dia," " Dictionary of the Bible," etc. One volume, octavo, 840 pp. Cloth, $3.00 ; sheep, 
$3.50 5 cloth, gilt, $4.00 ; half Turkey morocco, $4.00. 

The object of this Concordance is to present the Scriptures entire, under certain classified 
find exhaustive heads. It diifers from an ordinary Concordance , in that its arrangement depends 
not on WORDS, but on sdbjects, and the verses are printed in full. Its plan does not bring it at 
all into competition with such limited works as those of Gaston and Warden ; for they select doc- 
trinal topics principally, and do not profess to comprehend as this the entire Bible. The work 
also contains a Synoptical Table of Contents of the whole work, presenting in brief a isystem of 
biblical antiquities and theology, with a very copious and accurate index. 

The value of this work to ministers and Sabbath-school teachers can hardly be over-estimated j 
and it needs only to be examined, to secure the approval and patronage of every Bible student 

CRUDEN'S CONDENSED CONCORDANCE. A Complete Concord- 
ance to the Holy Scriptures. By Alexander Cruden. Revised and Ee-edited by the 
Kev. David King, LL. D. Octavo, cloth backs, $1.25 ; sheep, $1.50. 

The condensation of the quotations of Scripture, arranged under the most obvious heads, while 
it diminishes the hulk of the work, greatly facilitates the finding of any required passage. 

" We have in this edition of Cruden the lest made better. That is, the present is better adapted 
to the purposes of a Concordance, by the erasure of superfluous references, the omission of unne- 
cessary explanations, and the contraction of quotations, &c. It is better as a manual, and is better 
adapted by its price to the means of many who need and ought to possess such a work, than the 
former large and expensive edition." — Puritan Recorder. 

A COMMENTARY ON THE ORIGINAL TEXT OP THE ACTS 
OP THE APOSTLES. By Horatio B. Hackett, D. D., Prof, of Biblical Liter- 
ature and Interpretation, in the Newton Theol. Inst. [0"A new, revised, and enlarged 
edition. Royal octavo, cloth, $2.25. 

This most important and very popular work has been thoroughly revised ; large portions 
entirely re-written, with the addition of more than one hundred pages of new matter; the result of 
the author's continued, laborious investigations and travels, since the publication of the first edition. 

(32) 



WORKS FOR BIBLE STUDENTS. 



ISrOTES ON THE GOSPELS. Designed for Teachers in Sabbath Schools and 
Bible Classes, and as an Aid to Family Instruction. By Henry J. Riplet, Prof, in New. 
ton Theol. Inst. With Map of Canaan. Cloth, embossed, $1.25. 

NOTES OW THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. With a beautiful Maj), 
illustrating the Travels of the Apostle Paul, with a track of his Voyage from Cesarea 
to Rome. By Prof. Henbt J. Ripley, D. D. 12mo, cloth, embossed, 75 cts. 

NOTES ON THE EPISTLE OP PAUL TO THE KOMANS. 

Designed for Teachers in Sabbath Schools and Bible Classes, and as an aid to Family 
Instruction. By Henry J. Ripley. 12mo, cloth, embossed, 67 cts. 

The above works by Prof. Ripley should be in the hands of every student of th» Bible, Mpecially 
every Sabbath-school and Bible-class teacher. They are prepared with especial reference to thia 
class of persons, and contain a mass of just the kind of information wanted. 

MALCOM'S NEW BIBLE DICTION ABY of the most important Names, 
Objects, and Terms, found in the Holy Scriptures ; intended principally for Sabbath- 
School Teachers and Bible Classes. By Howard Malcom, D. D., late President of 
Lewisburg College, Pa. 16mo, cloth, embossed, 60 cts. 

The former Dictionary, of which more than one hundred thousand copies were sold, is made 
the basis of the present work ; yet so reyised, enlarged, and iraproved, by tht addition of new 
material, a greatly increased number of articles, new illustrations, etc., as to render it essentially a 
New Dictionaet. 

THE EVIDENCES OP CHKISTIANITY, as exhibited in the writings of 
its apologists, down to Augustine. By W. J. Bolton, of Gonville and Caius College, Cam- 
bridge. 12mo, cloth, 80 cts. 

HARMONY QUESTIONS ON THE POUR GOSPELS, for the use of 

Sabbath Schools. By Rev. S. B. Swaim, D. D. Vol, i. 18mo, cloth backs, 12^ cts. 

The plan differs from all others in this, that it is based apon a hasmovt of th» gospels. Instead 
of taking one of the gospels, — that of Matthew, for instance, — and going through with it, the author 
takes from all of the gospels those parts relating to the same event, and brings them together in 
the same lesson. 

SABBATH-SCHOOL CLASS BOOK; comprising copious Exercises on the 
Sacred Scriptures. By E. Lincoln. Revised and Improved by Rev. Joseph Banvard, 
author of " Topical Question Book," etc. ISmo, 12^ cts. 

United testimony of Dr. Malcom, author of *' Bible Dictionary," Dr. Stow, "Doctriaal Question 
Book," Dr. Hague, " Guides to Conversations on New Testament " : 

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work is well adapted to the end designed, having avoided, in a great degree, the evils of eztrems 
redundance or conciseness." 

LINCOLN'S SCRIPTURE QUESTIONS ; with answers, giving, in the 
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Where Bibles cannot be furnished to each scholar, this work will be found an admirable 
substitute, as the text is furnished in connection with the questions. 



THE SABBATH-SCHOOL HARMONY; containing appropriate Hymns 
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Nathaniel D. Gould. 12} cts. (23) 



VALUABLE NEW WOKKS. 



GOD REVEALED IN NATtlRE AND IN" CHEIST ; including a 
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of Creation." By Rev. James B. Walkeb, author of " The Philosophy of thb Plak 
OF Salvation." 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

PHILOSOPHY OF THE PLAN" OF SALVATION; a Book for the 
Times. By an Amekicau Citizen. With an Introductory Essay by Calvin E. Stowe, 
D. D. Qj' New improved and enlarged edition. 12mo, cloth, 75 cts. 

TAHVEH CHRIST; or, The Memorial Name. By Ausxxxdzr MacWhokter. 
With an Introductory Letter by Nathaniel W. Taylob, D. D., D wight Professor in Yale 
Theol. Sem. 16mo, cloth, 60 cts. 

SALVATION BY CHRIST. A Series of Discourses on some of the most Im- 
portant Doctrines of the Gospel. By Francis Watland, D. D. 12mo, «loth, $1.00 ; 
cloth, gilt, $1.50. 

CoiTTEXTS. — Theoretical Atheism, — Practical Atheism. — The Moral Character of Man. — 
The Fall of Man. — Justification by Works Impossible. — Preparation for the Advent — Work of 
the Messiah. — Justification by Faith. — Conversion.— Imitators of God. — Grieving Spirit.— 
A Day in the Life of Jesus. — The Benevolence of the Gospel. — The Fall of Peter. — Character 
of Balaam. — Veracity. — The Chmch of Christ. — The Unity of the Church. — Duty of Obedi- 
ence to the Civil Magistrate (three Sermons). 

THE GREAT DAT OF ATONEMENT ; or, Meditations and Prayers on 
the Last Twenty-four Hours of the Sufferings and Death of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus 
Christ. Translated from the German of Charlotte Elizabeth Nebeijn. Edited by 
Mrs. Colin Mackenzie. Elegantly printed and bound. 16mo, eloth, 75 cts. 

THE EXTENT OP THE ATONEMENT IN ITS RELATION 
TO GOD AND THE UNIVERSE. By Rev. Thomas W. Jenkyn, D. D., 
late President of Coward College, London. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

This work was thoroughly revised by the author not long before his death, exclusively for the 
present publishers. It has long been a standard work, and without doubt presents the most com- 
plete discussion of the subject in the language. 

" We consider this volume as setting the long and fiercely agitated question as to the extent of 
the Atonement completely at rest. Posterity will thank the author till the latest ages for his illus- 
trious argument" — ^^ew York Evangelist. 

THE SUFFERING SAVIOUR ; or, Meditations on the La«t Days of Christ. 
By Pred. W. Krummacher, D. D., author of "Elijah the Tishbite." 12Bao, cloth, $1.25. 

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eeeded, several passages for quotation, we found them in the end bo numerous, that we must refer 
the reader to the work itself." — iVeics of the Churches (^cotfisA). 

THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. By Thomas a Kempis. With an Introv 
ductory Essay, by Thomas Chalmers, D. D. Edited by Howard Malcom, D. D. A 
new edition, with a Life of Thomas a Kempis, by Dr. C. Ullmanx, author of " Re- 
formers before the Reformation." 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

This may safely be pronounced the best Protestant edition extant of this ancient and celebrated 
work. It is reprinted from Payne's edition, collated with an ancient Latin copy. The peculiar 
feature of this new edition is the improved page, the elegant, large, clear type, and the New Litk 
OF A KsMPis, by Dr. Ullmann. (1 3) 



DR. JOHN HAERIS' WORKS. 



THE GKEAT TEACHES; or, Characteristics of our Lord's Ministry. By JoHir 
Hareis, D, D. Witii aa Introductory Essay by H. Humphrey, D. D, Sixteenth thou- 
sand. 12mo, cloth, 85 cents. 

" Dk. Hakkis is one of the best writers of the age ; and this volume will not in the least detract 
from his weU-merited reputation." — American Pulpit. 

THE GREAT COMMISSION" ; or, the Christian Church constituted and 
charged to convey the Gospel to the World. A Prize Essay. With an Introductory 
Essay by W. R. Williams, D. D. Eighth thousand. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

" This volume will afford the reader an intellectual and spiritual banquet of the highest order."— 
Fhiladelphia Ch. Observer. 

THE PRE-ADAMITE EAKTH. Contributions to Theological Science. By 
John Harris, D. D. New and revised edition. 12mo, cloth, $1.00. 

MAN" PRIMEVAL ; or, the Constitution and Primitive Condition of the Human 
Being. With a finely engraved Portrait of the Author. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

PATRIARCHY" ; or, the Family, its Constitution and Probation. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 
This ia the last of Dr. Harris' series entitled " Contributions to Theological Science." 

SERMONS, CHARGES, ADDRESSES, &c., delivered by Dr. Harris in 
various parts of the country, during the height of his reputation as a preacher. Two ele- 
gant volumes, octavo, cloth, each, $1.00. 

The immense sale of all this author's "Works attests their intrinsic worth and great popularly. 

LECTURES ON THE LORD'S PRAXER. By William R. Williams, 
D. D. Third edition. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

" We are constantly reminded, in reading his eloquent pages, of the old English writers, whose 
vigorous thought, and gorgeous imagery, and varied learning, have made their writings an inex- 
haustible mine for the scholars of the present day." — Ch. Observer. 

RELIGIOUS PROGRESS ; Discourses on the Derelopment of the Christian 
Character. By William R. Williams, D. D. Third edition. 12mo, doth, 85 cts. 

" His power of apt and forcible illustration is without a parallel among modem writers. The mute 
pages spring into life beneath the magic of his radiant imagination. But this is never at the 
expense of solidity of thought, or strength of argument. It is seldom, indeed, that a mind of so 
much poetical invention yields such a wiUing homage to the logical element." — Harper's Monthly 

Miscellany. 

MISCELLANIES. By William R. Williams, D. D. New and improved edition. 
Price Reduced. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

" Dr. Williams ia a profound scholar and a brilliant writer." — N. Y. Evangelist. 

THE PREACHER AN"D THE KING; or, Bourdaloue in the Court of Louis 
XIV. 5 being an Account of the Pulpit Eloquence of that distinguished era. Translated 
from the French of L. F. Bungener, Paris. Introduction by the Rev. George Potts, 
D. D. A new, improved edition, with a fine Likeness and a Biographical Sketch of 
THE Author. 12mo, cloth, $1.25. 

THE PRIEST AND TETE HUGUENOT ; or, Persecution in the Age of 
Louis XV Translated from the French of L. F. Bungener. Two vols. 12mo, cloth, $2.25. 



eg- This is not only a work of thrilling interest,— no fiction could exceed it, — but, as a Protes- 
tant work, it is a masterly production. (1 5) 



BIOGRAPHIES AND WORKS ON MISSIONS. 



THE MISSIONABY ENTERPBISB ; a Collection of the most important 
Discourses in the language, on Christian Missions, by distinguished American Authors. 
Edited by Baron Stow, D. D. Second Thousand. 12mo, cloth, 85 cts. 

" You here see the high talent of the American church. The discourses by Dr. Beecher, Dr. 
Wayland, and the Rev. Dr. Stone, are among the very highest exhibitions of logical correctness, 
and burning, popular fervor." — A^ew Englander. 

A HISTORY OF AMERIOAK" BAPTIST MISSIONS, in Asia, 
Africa, Europe, and North America, from their earliest commencement to the present 
time. Prepared under the direction of the American Baptist Missionary Union. By 
William Gammell, Professor in Brown University. With seven Maps. 12mo, cloth, 
at the low price of 75 cts. 

This -work was prepared at the request of the Executive Committee of the Missionary Union ; 
and the Committee appointed by the Union to examine the manuscript, consisting of Doctors 
Cone, Sharp, and Chase, say : " It exhibits gratifying evidence of research, fidelity, and skill. It 
sets before the reader, in a lucid manner, facts that should never be forgotten. Some of them, in 
power to awaken attention and touch the heart, could scarcely be surpassed by fiction." 

Rev. E. Kincaid says : " As I have labored more or less at all the stations in Burmah, I could 
but admire the singular accuracy with which all the leading facts of these missions are detailed in 
Prof. Gammell's History of American Baptist Missions. I have not found a singU error of any 
importance." 

Eev. J. Wade says : " I can most cordially recommend it to the public as being a very truthful 
and well-written work." 

DB. GBANT AND THE MOUNTAIN NESTOBIANS. By Key. 

Thomas Laurie, his surviving associate in that Mission. With a Likeness, Map of the 
Country, and numerous lUnstrations. Third edition. Revised and improved. 12mo, 
cloth, $1.25. 

A most valuable Memoir of a remarkable man. 

THE KAREN APOSTLE; or. Memoir of Ko-Thah-Byp, the first Karen Con- 
vert. With notices concerning his Nation. By Rev. Francis Mason, D. D., Missionary. 
Edited by Prof. H. J. Ripley. 18mo, cloth, 25 cts. 

" This is a work of thrilling interest, containing the history of a remarkable man, and giving, 
also, much information respecting the Karens, a people until recently but Uttle known." 

MEMOIR OF ANN H. JUDSON, late Missionary to Burmah. By Rev. J. 
D. Knowles. a new edition. Fifty-seventh thousand. ISmo, cloth, 58 cts. 

Fine Edition, with plates, 16mo, cloth, gilt, 85 cts. 

MEMOIR OF GEORGE DANA BOARD MAN, late Missionary to Bur- 
mah, containing much intelligence relative to the Burman Mission. By Rev. A. King. 
With an Introductory Essay, by W. R. Williams, D. D. New edition, with beautiful 
frontispiece. 12mo, cloth, 75 cts. 

" One of the brightest luminaries of Burmah is extinguished." — Rev. De. Judson. 
EST The introduction alone is worth the price of the book, says a distinguished reviewer. 

MEMOIR OP HENRIETTA SHUCK, first female Missionary to China. 
By Rev. J. B. Jeter, D. D. With a Ukeness. Fifth thousand. 12mo, cloth, 60 cts. 

" We have seldom taken into our hands a more beautiful book than this. It will be extensively 
read, and eminently useful." — Family Visitor. 

MEMOIR OP REV. WILLIAM G. CROCKER, late Missionary to West 
Africa, among the Bassas. Including a History of the Mission. By R. B. Medbert. 
With a likeness. 18mo, cloth, 63 cts. 

" This work is commended to the attention of every lover of the liberties of man." — Watchman 
and Reflector, (16) 




69 WASHINGTON STEEET, BOSTON, 

"Would call particular attention to the following valuable works described 
in their Catalogue of Publications, viz. : 

Hugli Miller's Works. 
Bayne's "Works. Walker'« Works. Iffiall's Works. Bungener's Work. 
Animal of Scientific Discovery. Kaiglit'B Knowledge is Power. 
KrummaGher's Suffering Saviour, 
Banvard'a American Histories. The Aimwell Stories. 
Newcomb's Works. Tweedie's Works. Chambers's Works. Harris* Works. 
K.itto'3 Cyclopaedia of Biblical Literature.' 
lira. Knight's Life of Montgomery. Kitto's History of Palestine. 
Whewell'B Work. Wayland's Works. Agassiz's Works. 



Williams' Works. Gnyot's Works. 
Thompson's Better Land. Kimball's Heaven. Valuable Works on Missions. 
Haven's Mental Philosophy. Buchanan's Modern Atheism. 
Craden's Condensed Concordance. Sadie's Analytical Concordance^ 
The Psalmist : a Collection of Hymns. 
Valuable School Books. Works for Sabbath Schools. 
Memoir of Amos Lawrence, 
Poetical Works of Milton, Cowper, Scott. Elegant Miniature Volumes. 
Arvine's Cyclopaedia of Anecdotes. 
Eipley's Notes on G-ospels, Acts, and Romans. 
Sprague's European Celebrities. Marsh's Camel and the Hallig. 
Koget's Thesaurus of English Words. 
Eaekett's Notes on Acts. M'Whorter's Tahveh Christ. 
Siebold and Stannius's Comparative Anatomy. Marcou's Geological Map, U. S. 
Heligious and Miscellaneous Works. 
Works in the various Departments of Literature, Science and Art. 




